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warping-realities · 4 months ago

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Found Family

The sun was pouring through the dusty window of an old SUV, driven by a beautifull woman in his late thirties. But that light didn’t seem to warm the sour expressions of a couple of boys sitting in the car. The reason for their attitude was right outside the window, in the beautiful coastal town they’d just moved to. After a long and messy divorce, Amanda Sullivan (formerly Williams), the boys’ mom, decided it was time for a fresh start. Being an amazing cook, she chose to move to the picturesque beach town of Santa Maria, where she spent most of her childhood vacations, and open a restaurant there, bringing her kids, Robert and Benjamin, along for the ride. The two weren’t exactly stoked about the whole moving thing. They were in their senior year of high school. Robert, older than his brother by about ten months, had tons of friends and a sort-of girlfriend. Ben, on the other hand, had a tougher time at school and had never dated, which might make someone think he’d be more open to changes, but in reality, it was the opposite; he was even more pissed than his brother because it meant leaving their dad behind. He was always closer to his father than his brother. Amanda's second pregnancy, a few months after the previous one, was complicated and the boy was born prematurely. He remained small for his age, and his father was always his protector. At least he could count on having his brother in the same class to help him. That oddity made his classmates call them twins and the nickname stuck. Everyone called them that, except for their father, who always seemed to have a slight preference for his youngest son. A father who was distant and absent, but still their dad, and he knew the distance would only make things worse.

“Come on, boys, I know you’re bummed, but I promise you’re gonna love it here. I had a blast when I was a kid and loved it even more when I came back to find our new home and the best spot for the restaurant. By the way, this is the first thing I wanna show you: the restaurant space is right over there, close to the beach.” A smiling Amanda said, looking at her two grumpy kids, who got out of the car and followed their mom to an alley near the beach, filled with little shops. The restaurant that their mom had worked so hard to open was situated between an ice cream shop and a surf store.

“So, the place is perfect, right?” She asked in an excited voice toward her kids, who stared back at her with little enthusiasm. “You guys could at least pretend to be happy for me.”

“They won’t need to pretend for long, I’m sure they’ll feel at home in no time.” Said a cheerful male voice. The three members of the small family turned toward that voice and were faced with a handsome guy. He was sitting in front of the surf shop, with a surfboard beside him, in his 40s, with the sculpted physique of a hard-working man, long blonde hair, and a bright smile, radiating the energy of a guy who, despite his age, was still living life to the fullest. “Guys, this is Sean Hale, he’s been a great friend, helped me a lot with everything around here.”

“Happy to help, Amanda, it wasn’t long ago that Ollie and I were in the same boat, and we would’ve loved to have some friendly faces around. Speaking of which, here comes the devil. The boys and their mom turned in the direction Sean was pointing and saw what looked like a younger version of him, in the late teen years. The kid, Olliver, had the same blond hair, an enviable physique, and a youthful vibe.

“Hey, Dad! Mrs. Sullivan! Great to see you again, and I see you finally brought the twins with you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, guys. I know you’re not super hyped about the move, but Santa Maria is a magical place.” The two boys exchanged furtive glances, how the hell did this random dude know so much about them? Quickly, those looks turned angrily toward their mom, as if Amanda had been trash-talking them to her new friends. More pissed off than his brother, Benjamin spoke the first words of his day, although far from friendly.

“Fantastic, Mom, not only did you drag us to the other side of the country, but you also share our private stuff with the first people you meet.” He turned back toward the car, not even glancing at Sean and completely ignoring Olliver’s outstretched arm in a failed attempt at a high-five that was awkwardly met by a shy Robert.

“Hey, um, Ollie? Sorry about Ben’s behavior; just because we didn’t wanna move doesn’t mean we have to be rude to those who welcomed us so nicely. Also, I apologize to you for my brother’s attitude, Mr. Hale.”

“You can call me Sean, Robert, that’s what everyone calls me. And I get it; all this change can be a shock. It’s a shame Benjamin stormed off like that; I would’ve loved to explain to him that I’m not a complete stranger, actually, your mom and I have known each other for many years here on this beach, when we were younger than you guys are now. And we’ve crossed paths again over several summers until she never came back.”

“I had college on the other side of the country to attend, then there was the wedding and the kids, and my ex-husband hates the beach... but the truth is, when everything changed, I ended up being drawn back here, it was almost like a magnet pulling me back to Santa Maria.”

“I get you; when my wife passed away last year, I felt the same. I sold everything I had, moved here with Olliver, and opened the surf shop. I’ve always been passionate about the waves and have been bringing Ollie every summer to teach him how to surf, so it felt natural to open the shop and teach the sport to the tourist kids.”

“You surf, dude?” Olliver asked Robert.

“I can barely swim, Olliver.”

“You can call me Ollie or bro; our parents are old friends, we don’t need formalities. And about not knowing how to swim, let me help you; in no time, you’ll be owning the waves, and trust me, girls love a surfer, even if it is useless to me”

“Um, I’ll think about it, Olliver.”

“No thinking, and call me bro, bro. Let me show you our boards; I bet you’ll wanna grab one and jump in the water as soon as you see them.” Olliver said, dragging Robert inside the shop.

“Ollie, since you’re going in, ask Harry to come here; I’ll need his help unloading Mandy’s stuff.”

“Yeap.” Responded his son, already inside the shop.

“Sean, there’s no need for that; we can handle it ourselves.”

“I know that; from what I gathered, you’ve been managing on your own for a long time, even before the marriage ended, Mandy. But it doesn’t have to be like that; I’m here for you guys.”

“That’s really kind of you, Sean, and I can’t deny the truth in your words, it’s been so tough. Rob is upset, but that should pass soon, but Ben... Ben is different; he still misses his dad a lot, my ex was his idol, so being left behind... he’s really mad, and how does he deal with that? He refuses to admit his dad’s abandonment, so he chose to take that anger out on everyone else, including me.”

“That’ll pass, believe me; if you want, I can try to help, or maybe Ollie; the age proximity might make things easier.”

“Would you do that?”

“Sure, I’ll ask him to drop by your house tonight, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, I don’t mind; I’m really grateful.”

“You don’t need to thank me; it’ll be a great pleasure.” Sean concluded with a radiant smile.

…..

“This is the last one, Mrs. Sullivan.” Said a huge black young man, with a contagious smile, as he dropped the last box at Amanda’s new house. This was Harrison, Sean’s surf shop employee. A young man with massive muscles but an easy laugh and a laid-back vibe, evidenced by his head full of dreadlocks. It was a big shock to discover that a guy that big was only nineteen, having just graduated a few months ago with Olliver. But despite his size, the kid was so friendly and cheerful, exuding so much happiness that even Ben let his guard down a bit when he met him at the beach.

Speaking of Ben, Harry, as he preferred to be called, turned to him. “You’re a senior, Ben? So you’ll be classmates with my brother Micky; I think you guys could hit it off. You both give off the same vibe.”

“Um, thanks.” Ben replied, at least acknowledging it, before heading inside the house.

“I wonder what that vibe would be. Crybaby teen?” commented a much friendlier Robert, who quickly hit it off with Harry and Olliver and started to think that maybe this whole moving thing wasn’t so bad after all.

“I’d say more like a future family killer.” Harry replied, smiling, giving Rob a high-five.

The end of the day didn’t have any other significant events, being filled with the work of organize the house, which was already furnished. Thanks to the chores, even Benjamin loosened up a bit and started chatting, still a bit grumpy, with his mom, while Robert seemed like a different person, chatting excitedly at dinner about thinking over Ollie’s offer to learn to surf.

“You’re a terrible swimmer, Rob; just because you wish for something doesn’t mean you’ll get it, bro!” Ben commented with the first smile of the day.

“I think you’d be surprised at the power a wish has.” Someone said at the dining room door. Standing there was Olliver Hale in all his golden glory.

“Sorry to interrupt, but the door was open, Mrs. Sullivan. My dad asked to see if you needed help with anything.”

“Ollie, sweetheart, don’t worry, you’re very welcome; we’ve got everything sorted. Since you were so kind to come here, would you like to have dinner with us? Tonight I made my famous bolognese lasagna. Since I’ll be serving lighter dishes at the beach, if I were you, I wouldn’t miss out.”

“Oh, I certainly wouldn’t, excuse me.” Said the kid sitting next to Benjamin, who then stood up and stormed out, irritated, without saying a word.

“A tough crowd.” Olliver joked.

“What do you mean by that?” Robert asked.

“My dad asked me to come here and try to befriend you guys to make things easier for both of you. But from what I can see, Benjamin isn’t interested.”

“He’ll get over it; it’s just that things have been intense the last few months.”

“I get it, bro. And until then, I can dedicate all my time to you. Speaking of which, stop by the shop tomorrow after school for your first surf lesson.”

“Hey, I said I’d think about it, Ollie.”

“And I said don’t think. So, no arguments, surf lesson tomorrow afternoon. Wow, this is the best food I’ve ever had, Mrs. Sullivan; trust me, I’ll be spending a lot of time here. A new bro and food like this, I’ll be calling your place home soon.”

…..

Ben woke up with a bitter taste in his mouth after his impromptu exit from the dining room the night before; he locked himself in his room, kicked the bed, lay down, and cried himself to sleep, mad about his situation, missing his dad, and also embarrassed about his attitude toward Olliver. He and his dad seemed like cool guys, but they represented everything he hated most at that moment. Still, he would have to apologize to them for his behavior.

After a quick shower, he got ready for school and headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. And to his surprise, he found himself face to face with Olliver, in an animated conversation with Rob. “I can’t wait for my first class, bro. Surfing is so awesome...”

“What’s going on? What are you doing here?” Benjamin abruptly interrupted, suddenly abandoning all thoughts of apologizing.

“Enough, Ben. Ollie stayed up late last night chatting with me, and I invited him to sleep here. We all get that you’re bummed, but that doesn’t mean you have to be rude!”

“Until yesterday, you didn’t want to be here either, and now you’re all happy and making friends; I thought we’d find a way to go back home.”

“Grow up, Benjamin; this is our home now, you said that yesterday, just because you wish for something doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen.”

“Bro, chill. Ben, can I call you that? I understand what you’re going through; when my mom died and my dad decided to move here, I wasn’t happy either, and I’ve known Santa Maria my whole life, but let me tell you, it’s a magical place...”

“Magical place, you’ve told me that already. And look, I’m sorry for my behavior, but... Hey, there’s someone at the window!”

“What?” the other two boys said in unison, turning to the kitchen window, but there was no one there.

“Ben, just apologize and we can move on with our lives.” Rob said to his younger brother.

“But it’s true, there was a black kid standing right there...”

“Alright, the choice is yours, bro.”

“But I...”

“Ollie offered to give us a ride to school; grab your stuff and let’s go; he’ll pick us up when we’re done so we can start surfing lessons.”

“I didn’t agree to that, and besides, I’d rather go to school alone.” Ben replied, leaving without having breakfast.

“A really tough crowd.” Olliver commented, watching the other boy leave the room.

Ben almost regretted refusing Olliver’s ride; it was tough finding his way to school, but he finally made it. The first days of school are always the same boring routine, and Benjamin thought he could count on Rob, but at that moment, he wanted to be as far away from his brother as possible, sitting as far from him as he could. Throughout their lives, they’d always been there for each other. But now Rob was a traitor, selling out for a friendship with a brainless surfer and the promise of learning a sport he had no talent for. And thinking about how much water his brother would have to swallow, with a certain malicious satisfaction, he scanned the rest of the room. To his surprise, sitting right in front of the class, looking at him with an unreadable expression, was the kid he saw at the window during breakfast.

Ben found out the kid’s name was Michael, but he had to wait until the end of class to ask what he was doing at the window in the morning. Which wasn’t an easy task, since the kid seemed to disappear from the world, leaving the classroom as soon as the bell rang. It was only during the period before lunch that he finally got his chance, when he walked into the classroom and saw the kid again and chose to sit next to the classroom door, blocking him from leaving without passing Ben. And that’s exactly what he did; when the kid walked past him without saying anything, Ben pulled him aside, trying to get some answers. But he was caught off guard by the kid’s expression; there was so much fear in his eyes.

“Let me go, please, I promise I’ll stay away, don’t do anything to me, I swear I’ll stop trying to figure it out...”

“Figure out what? What are you talking about?”

“I saw you with them yesterday at the beach. You’re one of them.”

“What do you mean by ‘one of them’? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you’re not one of them yet, you will be soon; you’re too close to them. Now let me go.” The other kid finished, breaking free and running away.

“Michael, come back here, MICHAEL!!! What the hell is going on?”

……

Ben decided to ignore his brother’s text messages, first asking about lunch and then what he was doing after school. He also ignored his mom’s worried messages, opting to walk along the beach in an attempt to figure out what the hell was happening. It wasn’t until Amanda left an angry message saying she was really worried about him and that if he didn’t show up in the next fifteen minutes she’d call the cops, that a reluctant Benjamin called her to say he was heading home.

After a long lecture about her son’s childish behavior, she informed him that she would be staying late at the restaurant preparing things for the opening that would happen that weekend, but that there was food ready and that Rob was already home. With one last motherly plea, she asked Ben to make an effort to at least sort things out with his brother since apparently, that wasn’t going to happen with her anytime soon.

Sighing heavily, Ben entered the living room of the house, and upon doing so, received the biggest shock of his life. Sitting at the table, studying, was Rob, but this wasn’t the same Rob from that morning. Shirtless, with the sun-kissed skin of someone who spends a lot of time outdoors, extra pounds of muscle, and light blonde hair almost golden, anyone would think it was another person, but the face and aura were all Rob, altered, but still him.

“What the hell happened to you, Robert?” Asked a truly desperate Ben upon seeing this totally strange version of his older brother.

“What happened is that I got tired of waiting, bro. If you don’t wanna hang out with me anymore, fine. So, once you grow up and stop acting like a crybaby, you can come talk to me.”

“I... I’m not talking about that, Rob. Your hair, your skin, your muscles, how did this happen?”

“Dude, this is what happens when you go out and live your life. If you had gone surfing today, I would’ve shown you how great it is.”

“But that’s impossible... Rob, there’s no way such a change can happen in a single day.”

“What are you talking about, Ben? Of course, it can’t happen in a day. I’ve been surfing for almost a year now, ever since our parents split and I moved in with Uncle Sean.”

“Uncle Sean? Rob, that doesn’t make sense. Sean isn’t our uncle, and we moved here yesterday. We met him yesterday. None of this makes sense.”

Apparently, Ben didn’t make sense to this different Rob either. Because he stared at Ben with a look that was probably a mirror of what Ben had at that moment. And with a sigh, he finally said, “Alright, Ben, if that’s how you want things, fine. When you’re ready, you can come talk to me, bro. I’m your brother, we are the twins, try to remember. I’ll always be here for you, as long as you don’t push me away like you’re doing now. I’m done studying, I’ll go help Mom with the restaurant stuff. Don’t wait for us, but if you decide to be yourself again, stop by to help; we’ll be really grateful for both decisions.” Concluded Rob, getting up, putting on a shirt, and walking out the door without looking back, leaving a stunned Benjamin standing there with his mouth agape in the middle of the living room.

….

Ben needed answers, more than that, he needed a way to get his brother back to normal so they could get out of there together. Talking to their mom was out of the question; she was probably the first one to be... dominated? Hypnotized? One person popped into his mind. Michael, he knew what was happening and thought Benjamin was part of it. He needed to find Michael and convince him to tell him everything he knew and fast.

The next morning, he woke up before sunrise, after a sleepless night where he had to pretend to be sleeping when his mom came to say goodnight. He hated doing that to her but wasn’t sure if she was infected or not; unlike Rob, she hadn’t shown any significant changes in behavior or appearance, unless you counted her sudden desire to settle in Santa Maria, which, despite his disapproval, was nothing compared to what happened with his brother.

Sneaking out quietly to avoid being seen, he headed to school, praying that Michael hadn’t freaked out enough to decide to skip classes. Apparently, some higher power heard his prayers, as Michael not only showed up for class that day but after a bit of persuasion agreed to talk to Ben. In an empty classroom, Ben started his plea for any kind of answer.

“I swear I’m not infected or zombified or whatever the hell is going on, but they took my brother and maybe my mom too; you’re the only one who seems to know something about what’s going on, so please, help me.”

Michael looked at Ben with unreadable eyes for a few seconds before sighing and speaking. “Okay, let’s say I believe you; what happened to your brother?”

“Long story short. My parents split up last year, after which my mom got it in her head to move us here and open a restaurant by the beach, dragging my brother and me along with her. Something neither of us agreed to. We didn’t even like the beach. Until we arrived here two days ago at least, when Rob started hanging out with Olliver Hale, and since then he’s been acting different, but that’s not the worst part; he seems different and acts like things have always been this way. Calling Olliver’s father ‘Uncle’ and we barely know the guy.” Benjamin replied in one breath, afraid of sounding ridiculous. But Michael just asked another question: “Have you met my brother, Harrison?”

“Harrison? Harry? The surf shop employee? Wait a minute, are you the Micky he was talking about?”

“No one, no one has ever called me that, at least not until a few months ago. So, please, keep calling me Michael. But yeah, that Harry. So let me tell you my story. Although I still don’t have the slightest idea if you have bad intentions...”

“I promise I’m not lying; you saw my brother at the kitchen window yesterday, and don’t deny it, because now I’m sure it was you. Wait until he shows up at school, and you’ll see the difference in him. Believing me is your choice, but you heard my story. I think I’ll lose my mind if I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you, because I don’t have the faintest idea of what’s going on. I can only tell you what happened to me. But before I continue, you told me you met Harry. Take a look at this photo here and tell me what you see.” Michael said, handing Benjamin a worn-out photo. It was a picture of two skinny Black boys, both wearing glasses; one of them was clearly Michael, while the other could be some other brother or close relative, as the resemblance was striking.

“Benjamin, you’ve met Harry; now I present to you Harrison. We took this photo together a few months ago; it’s worn out because I keep it with me so often just to make sure I’m not crazy.”

“I don’t get it; this isn’t possible...” There was no way the kid in the photo was the giant Ben knew, even with steroids; there was still the height issue, Harry was at least a foot taller, and the hair, hair like that doesn’t grow overnight, even if it was some kind of wig...

“Think, Benjamin, you just told me about your brother; I’m telling you what happened to mine. I thought finally someone would believe me; you have no idea how many times I’ve tried to show this photo, without success, but no one believes me. It’s not like I have many people to support me; since our parents died, it’s always been Harrison and me, taking care of our grandma. Even so, I thought someone would remember, that someone would look at the photo and help me. All the other photos and videos show Harry, not Harrison; for some reason, only that one remained. But people think I’m trying to pull a prank or something stupid like that.”

“Michael, that’s not possible; no one changes that much...” Ben repeated.

“Your brother hasn’t changed?”

“Yeah, but he’s still... him. Maybe he already gained those muscles and I didn’t notice, and his hair might be dyed, and he could have a fake tan... maybe this is all a huge prank in response to my behavior... and maybe you’re in on it too; yeah, confess, Harry asked you to do this, didn’t he?”

“Don’t try to rationalize, Benjamin; I tried, and it just frustrated me even more; there’s no space for reason in what’s happening. But there’s an easy way for me to prove to you that I’m not messing with you. Tell me, have you seen your brother today?”

“No, that’s impossible; there’s no way this is real. You’re joking; you’re all joking. I get it, I’ve been unbearable the last few days, but doing this to me is bullshit. Stop messing around, Michael, I promise I’ll go home and apologize to my mom and Rob, and then I’ll apologize to Sean and Olliver too.”

“No, don’t do that; they’ll find a way to grab you too; I’ve been feeling that they’re close to getting me; I feel it’s an increasing attraction every time Harry is near me or when I get close to his work; they want you too, and if they took your brother and your mom, they definitely want you.”

“Why? Why us?”

“Because you must have something they care about. Let me finish my story. It all started when the Hales moved here a few months ago. Harrison was almost done with his last year, probably would’ve been the class speaker and would’ve landed a scholarship at a good college. He worried about what would happen to me, being left alone at home with a sick grandma. But I always told him those were opportunities he couldn’t miss. But then the Hales showed up, and Olliver became Harrison’s classmate. And my brother felt attracted to him like a moth to a flame. After that, everything happened so quickly; one moment Harrison was going to college, the next he was kissing Olliver Hale, talking as if he’d known him for years, and finally... finally he was Harry, like you knew him, that mountain of muscles, all smiles and joy, without a care in the world other than surfing, working a mediocre job, dating the owner’s son, and... me, I guess. Harry seems to like me just as much as Harrison liked him, but I... I can’t like him back... I need my brother, not him.”

“Wait a minute, you’re telling me Harry and Olliver are together?”

“Seriously, out of everything I told you, you choose to worry about two dudes being together?”

“No, that’s not it; do you think this... thing... happened to your brother because Olliver was into him? Because Sean seems pretty interested in my mom; on the day we arrived, I watched them from a distance, and he was flirting with her the whole time. Still... I don’t know what to say; I want to believe you because you believed in me, Michael, but this is too much.”

“Do you know where your brother’s locker is, Benjamin? Let’s go there.” Concluded Michael as Ben nodded.

There were still a few minutes until the bell, but standing in front of Rob’s locker was a big blonde kid with his back turned to the two approaching. When he turned around, Benjamin was even more surprised than the night before. It was Rob, but not really. This Rob looked way more like Olliver Hale’s younger brother than Benjamin’s brother.

“Good morning, bro, good morning, Micky. So good to see you guys getting along; if I’d bet with Harry, I would’ve lost!”

“R-Rob?”

“Sorry, bro, but I gotta head to football practice. Mom and Dad will be stoked to know you’re making an effort just like Harry, Micky, as long as you guys aren’t up to anything! See you at lunch, Ben?”

“I don’t...”

“No, no, bro, we’re having lunch the three of us, and after school, I wanna see you two at the shop. Mom and Dad had to leave town and won’t be back until tomorrow, so we can do something just us. I wanna introduce you to someone important, bro. See ya, please don’t leave me hanging.” And he walked towards the classroom, leaving behind two stunned boys. “What the hell was he talking about, about Mom and Dad? Our dad’s not here; he’s on the other side of the country, and they’d never hang out again, not after the divorce.”

“I don’t know, but I bet you’ll figure it out soon. And did you see how he talked to me, like he knew me, and I can assure you I never spoke to him in my life.”

“This whole situation is so complicated... At least we have proof we were telling the truth. Which leaves us with one question: what the hell are we gonna do about this?…” Michael and Benjamin decided to keep as far away from their brothers as possible until they had some idea of what to do; the problem was precisely that: they had no clue what to do. They vaguely discussed the possibility of investigating the surf shop, but that would put them directly in the enemy’s den. There was also the issue that, even if Michael wasn’t affected yet, that didn’t mean the same would happen to Ben, especially with him being so close to the center of everything. The two skipped lunch, and after class ended, Ben ran home, stopping to grab something to eat and locking himself in his room, hoping to avoid any conflict. Unfortunately, as soon as he got home, he found himself face to face with an irritated Rob.

“I don’t know why I was so dumb to think things were getting better, bro. I thought that after our talk yesterday, you’d make an effort to try to adjust, and when I saw you and Micky together, I thought you were finally starting to accept that this is our new reality.”

“Rob, how can’t you see what’s going on? You’ve completely changed!”

“Enough, Ben. I get that you’re bummed because our mom decided to move back in with my dad after all this time. But I want you to remember I was by your side when Ollie decided to move in with our dad because his relationship with your dad was crap. I stuck around for you. I expected the bare minimum of effort from you, just a little gratitude!”

“Rob, let me...”

“No, let me tell you something. My dad may not be your dad, but our mom decided to go back to him for a reason, and yeah, Ollie and I are super happy about it, and I repeat, we understand why you might be feeling bad. Ollie felt the same way when Mom married your dad; I was too young to remember, but I bet I felt the same way too. So, we get it, bro. And I’m sorry, but your dad’s a piece of work; he doesn’t give a damn about you, but my dad is here for you, just like he is for Ollie and me, if you let him.”

Ben was once again stunned by what he heard, to the point of standing there in the middle of the room, speechless, just staring at what should be his brother. “You’ve got nothing to say, Benjamin? Great! Then you can go to your room and lock yourself in there like you’ve been doing for the last few days. I was gonna introduce you to Jessica tonight and then take you to your first beach party, but you don’t deserve any of that.” Not knowing what to do, Benjamin went to his room, sat on the bed, and cried, for his brother, for his mom, but also because that distorted version of Rob was speaking the truth: his dad didn’t give a shit about him. And, most likely, Sean Hale would be a good dad, so maybe... But before he could finish that thought, he was distracted by a noise outside his room. Standing at the window, just like the first time he saw him, was Michael, waving and seemingly asking Ben to meet him outside the house. Benjamin quietly slipped out to meet his new friend.

“What? Why the hell are you here? You could’ve sent me a message.”

“I did! I sent several messages; when you didn’t reply, I decided to come find you. Sean’s out…”

“Yeah, I know, and apparently now he and my mom are the parents of Rob and Ollie. That’s what Rob was talking about this morning when he said Mom and Dad were leaving for a day. Dude, this is so fucked up. I lost my brother!”

“I know, I’ve had that same thought for months. Look, Harry asked me to go to some kind of party on the other side of the beach; Olliver and your brother are going too. With Sean out, this is our chance to at least check out the surf shop; it’s a long shot, but…”

“But it’s all we’ve got. And besides, I don’t know how much longer I can take this; I was about to give up when you showed up.”

“I know, I almost agreed to hang out with Harry when he hugged me. Dude, I just want my brother back.”

“And what’s worse is that they seem so happy.” Ben said, pointing to Rob leaving the house at that moment, accompanied by a pretty girl, both smiling and radiating total happiness.

“Dude, it looks like his hair grew even more in the last few minutes; this is so…”

“Fucked up, I know. Let’s go.” …

The two boys ran to the beach, with Michael leading Benjamin to the back of Sean Hale’s surf shop.

“How are we gonna get in?”

“I grabbed these keys when Harry hugged me.” Michael said, showing a set of keys with a mischievous grin, the first one Benjamin had seen. As soon as they entered the shop, Benjamin turned to Michael again and asked, “So, what are we looking for? Some kind of device, a spell book, some alien goo?”

“Maybe a bit of common sense?” Interrupted a deep, serious voice. Standing in front of the two, with an irritated expression, was Harry. “Boys, you’ve crossed every imaginable line. Michael, it’s about time we caught up, bro. Benjamin, your brothers are waiting for you in front of the shop so you can settle in too.” He said, holding Michael by the shoulders.

Benjamin took a good look at his friend’s face and, with an apologetic expression, ran out the back door. And he ran, ran until his legs hurt so much he forced himself to stop, collapsing in the sand and crying for the second time that day. And that’s how he stayed for hours until he fell asleep in the sand.

It was late evening when he was awakened by a deep voice. “Finally I found you. Hey, bro, what are you doing here? I know things aren’t great, but I thought we were friends; you know you can always count on me, Benji.” Benjamin, wiping the sand from his eyes, found himself facing a muscular black kid who looks... just like his brother.

“Mi-Michael?”

“Micky, dude. Don’t say it like we don’t know each other our whole lives.” Ben didn’t even try to argue this time, too worn out from all the weirdness; he just turned and run again. However, when he arrived at the main street he came face to face with Rob and Ollie waiting for him.

“Thinking about sneaking out again? No way, little bro. We’re going home; Dad wants to talk to you, and I can add that I’ve never seen him like this. Good luck.” Thinking it was better to just get it over with, Benjamin gave up and followed them...

Benjamin stayed quiet during the whole journey, he didn’t wanna argue with anyone; besides, he felt overwhelmed by equally large amounts of shame for ditching the closest thing to a friend he’d made in this town, guilt for what had happened to that person, and anxiety about what would happen to him. All of this was made worse by the fact that this new version of Michael - Micky - was nothing like the Michael Benjamin had known; Micky was cheerful, playful, and outgoing, and genuinely seemed hurt by being ignored by his supposed best friend. It was unbearable how nice he was, to the point that Ben couldn’t help but return the hand touch and the farewell hug offered by him when they finally reached their destination.

“See ya, bro. Chill, everything will be alright.” That was Micky’s farewell phrase. Before Robert turned to Benjamin.

"Benji, I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm really worried, bro. This isn't you, talk to dad and let him help you, little brother. I want my twin back." And then he hugged him, easily wrapping Benjamin's body with his long arms, and as much as he wanted to get away, he felt comfortable in that place. His brother smelled of coconut and salt, but underneath it there was still his own scent, which Benjamin knew so well.

Wiping away the new torrent of tears, he turned around and without looking back entered the house. As he entered the living room he found himself facing Sean Hale, sitting shirtless on the couch with a worried look on his face.

What do these people have against shirts? Was the first thought that crossed Benjamin's mind before he was hit with another feeling: the most intense anger he’d ever felt in his life. Standing in front of him was the guy responsible for the absurd situation he was in. But before he could say or do anything, Sean turned to him: “I think I owe you an explanation. I’m really sorry, Benjamin; it’s all my fault, I didn’t think it was necessary. But apparently, just like your buddy Micky, you have this crazy resistance to change, and for things to go the way they’re supposed to, changes need to be embraced.”

“You know when I’m gonna accept that? Only in your wildest dreams.”

“It’s funny you mention my dreams, Benjamin, because my part in this story actually starts with my dreams. My dreams of a big, happy family. But this story, our story, goes way back. Do you know why this town is called Santa Maria, Benji?”

“Don’t call me that, and I don’t care what this town’s called; I just want my brother and my life back.”

“And you’ll get it if you listen to me. Santa Maria was the name given by Spanish conquistadors to this land in an attempt to assimilate the native peoples into the Catholic faith when this part of the country was still under Mexico’s rule. When they got here, they heard a legend about a local female deity. A woman whose son had been killed and who, in her grief, threw herself off a cliff into one of the caves along the coast. Over time, this cave became a pilgrimage site for native women seeking help with their children. For Catholic preachers, the association with the Virgin Mary was obvious, and so a church in honor of the Mother of God was built on a hill, giving the town its name. The church was destroyed when the region was integrated into the United States. But secretly, over the years, countless generations of mothers sought out the old cave, praying to the virgin or the mother of the legend to intercede for their kids. When you’re a mom and you need divine intervention, the source of that intervention doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t get where this is going...”

“Please, just chill, Benjamin; you’ll understand soon enough. Your mom and I actually met when we were kids on this beach, and we heard all about the old legend together. Our paths diverged; your mom met your dad, and I met Lilly, my late wife, although, at this moment, that story is being rewritten, and soon I’ll forget it, which hurts me so much. But this is the path Lilly set for us. She and I came here every summer for our vacations. The tradition continued after Olliver was born, and the three of us were really happy here. But about a year ago, around the same time your parents started the divorce process, something terrible happened to us. Olliver came out, which wasn’t a problem for us; parents usually know about these things long before their kids, and we’ve always loved him as he is. But not everyone’s like that. One day, those who were supposed to be my son’s friends pulled what they thought was a prank on him, basically a huge act of homophobia. Ollie didn’t take it well, and one thing led to another, in this case, a beating followed by a coma. You have no idea how horrible it is to see your kid lying unconscious, fighting for his life, with doctors saying there’s no chance of survival. It tears you apart inside.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Sean, but I still don’t get what the point of all this is...”

“Hang tight, I’ll get to that part. Over the years, my wife also heard about the legend, and in her desperation, she went to the mother’s cave to ask for help. But the legends she heard were wrong; they spoke of blood sacrifices, of one life for another... and in her hopelessness, Lilly jumped into the abyss.”

“Oh my God.”

“Yeah, a terrible, sad decision, I think she decided she couldn’t live without our son... But her sacrifice awakened something, or someone. Santa Maria really is a magical place. And you and I both experienced it. The next morning, Oliver woke up, and within a few days, he was literally brand new, healthier than ever, stronger, taller. And only I seemed to notice. As for Lilly, her body was never found. I thought I’d never set foot on this land again, but a strange feeling in my chest, like a pull, kept bringing me back here. Until I finally gave in and came. The day my shop opened, that pull reached its peak, guiding me to the cave. And inside it, kneeling in prayer, was your mom, asking for help with her kids. So I knew what to do; I approached her and offered the help she needed. At that moment, I didn’t know something like what’s happening now was possible. Of course, not long after, Ollie met Harrison, and suddenly, I had an employee named Harry who was also my son’s boyfriend. Still, when you guys came here, I thought things would just flow naturally. But I realized I was wrong again when I watched the transformation happen with Rob, with a new set of memories about him entering my head, first of him knowing me his whole life and moving in with me right after Amanda’s divorce. Then the memory changed again, Rob and Olliver became my sons with Amanda, as if Lilly had never existed. At the same time this situation infuriated me, it also scared me. I looked for your mom at the same time she was looking for me, and when we were together, we both felt that pull again, so we came to the same conclusion: we should go to the cave.” He sighed and looked at Benjamin, his eyes sympathetic. “Now things get really complicated, Benjamin. When we arrived at the cave, both Amanda and I were overtaken by a force, something much bigger than the two of us. We were invaded by alien memories, of a mother hugging her son and her lover, both dead, in that same cave, and jumping off the cliff. Then, countless mothers kneeling there, begging for their children, the intervals between those visits getting longer and longer. Until the consciousness that was there fell asleep. Then, Lilly... I was forced to witness the prayer and sacrifice of my wife, Benjamin. In her final moments, she didn’t just pray for our son’s life but also for my happiness, so that I could find a family like I always wanted. She shouldn’t have done that; Lilly’s sacrifice gave the entity more power than it had in centuries, and it used it. It found another desperate mother seeking help and put her in my path, ensuring that Lilly’s last wishes were fulfilled. Ollie is happy with the boyfriend he always wanted. Harry never had the courage to come out until he met Ollie and always worried about leaving his brother alone with a sick grandma when going to college. Your mom wanted a stable father for her kids. Rob wanted friends and a girlfriend. Micky wanted a brother he could connect with. And me, I just want a family, a big happy family. So now it’s your turn, what do you want, Benjamin?”

“I want my dad back, my brother, and the life we had.”

“I figured you’d say that. But that’s not possible. The entity can’t grasp the concept of love between a father and son. The father of her son was the one who killed him when he found out about his relationship with another man. She made it very clear to me that I only got what I wanted because it was what was best for your mom and our kids. But understand, Benjamin, the power from Lilly’s sacrifice is running out. That’s why she summoned us to the cave; she doesn’t have much time to fit you in. I’m afraid your dad’s absence in the last few months is a side effect of my wife’s desire. Your mom would’ve liked to be here and tell you all this in person, but she took the first flight back to her old city this morning, trying to track down your dad, and she was successful... Benjamin, I’m sorry, but he doesn’t remember you or your brother; he’s got another family and another life.”

“No, no, you’re lying.”

“Look into my eyes, Benjamin. I’m not lying. I care about what happens to you just like I care about my other kids. Understand, the entity can’t be guided or have its power reversed. At this point, I have two sets of memories in my mind; in one, I’m the father of two boys; in the other, I have three. Your mom is going through the same thing; she’s desperate, Benjamin, please accept what’s being offered to you!

“I don’t know...”

“You want a dad and a mom who love you and are by your side; you want your brother by your side. Even if the flow of events were reversed, it wouldn’t happen the way you want, Benjamin; your dad and mom weren’t happy in their marriage. They were hurting each other, and if you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit they were hurting you too. So I’m begging you, let me be the dad you so need. I want the set of memories with the three boys to be real. I’ll also be letting go of an important person in my life; Lilly will cease to exist for me, but it’ll be worth it; you’re worth it.”

“I... I...” Unable to respond, Benjamin closed his eyes and just nodded as he felt the tight embrace of strong arms around him...

…..

The sunlight streamed through the kitchen window of a big beach house, lighting up the space and an eighteen-year-old kid busy preparing breakfast for the rest of his family. This kid had golden hair like the sun shining on him and a smile so bright. He seemed carefree, humming a happy tune while setting the breakfast table. Distracted for a moment while making pancakes, he didn’t notice the handsome blonde man standing at the door, watching him with an admiring smile. “Good morning, Benji!” said the man, finally deciding to interrupt the kid.

“Dad, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Watch your language, kid.” replied the dad, still smiling. “It’s just that you remind me so much of your mom when she cooks.” Of his three children, Benji was the most physically similar to him, a little shorter than his brothers and with a more robust build. But his behavior was all Amanda.

“Someone had to learn how to cook since you and none of my brothers can whip up a dish that doesn’t make everyone sick.”

“Oh, the harsh truth. Speaking of your brothers, where are they?”

“Ollie hasn’t woken up yet, and Bobby spent the night with Jessica, so it looks like it’ll just be us for breakfast.”

“Couldn’t ask for better company, son. So, what’s on your plans for today?” said Sean, stacking pancakes and pouring a generous amount of syrup on top.

“Nothing much, Bobby will meet me here so we can go to school together, Micky will meet us on the way. This afternoon we’re gonna surf, and I promised to help Mom with the restaurant tonight.”

“Hey, how come I don’t get a hand at the shop?”

“Because you’ve got an employee and your two other kids to help you with that, and both of them are incapable of frying an egg so that’s up to me. Aaand do I need to remind you I’m already giving surf lessons to the younger kids with Micky?

“Alright, you win. You win.” Sean replied, still smiling.

“I always win, Dad; Mom always says I’ve got your face but her brains, and her brains always beat you.”

“Smart woman. But we’re talking about you, kid. And I just want you to know I love you tons and I’m super proud of you, son. You’re everything a dad could want.”

“I love you too, Dad, and I couldn’t ask for a better one.” Benji replied, finishing his meal in a hurry and getting up from the table.

“What’s the rush?”

“We gotta swing by Micky’s place before school, and you know how he is; he can take longer than Ollie in the morning, and I don’t wanna be late, we have football practice.”

“I get you’ve got a busy day, but stop by the shop before heading to your mom’s restaurant.”

“Sure, see ya later, Dad.”

He said as he ran out of the kitchen. In a few minutes he was back with his backpack on his shoulders and heading out the door to meet his brother who was waiting for him on the sidewalk. He was followed the whole time by the gaze of his father who, upon seeing his sons greet each other with the greeting of the moment, could not resist calling them, making them both turn around.

“Boys!!! Before you go, where’s my hug?” He asked, which was met with all the affection from his sons.

…..

That afternoon, Sean and Amanda were at the beach, watching their three sons running after each other like they were still little kids, the resemblance between them was so strong that anyone looking from the outside might think they were triplets. It was only on closer inspection that an outsider would realize that one of the boys was slightly older than the other two. After Ollie they had longed for a girl, but But what was the surprise for both of them when they discovered that they would be parents of twins? The pregnancy had been complicated and they had gone through some tough times but somehow everything worked out and the boys were now grown men or should have been...

“Looks like these kids are never gonna grow up.” Sean commented to his wife.

“What did you expect? Their dad never grew up.” was Amanda’s cutting reply.

“Ouch! That hurt.”

“Stop whining. You know very well I prefer it this way. I wouldn’t have married you for almost twenty years if I didn’t love that goofy surfer vibe of yours.”

“So, no regrets about not going to college to be with me?”

“You know I don’t regret it; I have everything I could want, a job I love, three wonderful boys, perfect copies of their dad, the love of my life. I’m sure some higher power guided our destiny. And you, aren’t you happy with everything we’ve achieved?”

“I’m the happiest man in the world. And I’m super grateful for everything we’ve got. I think even in other lives I wouldn’t find a better family.”

…………..

One last word

So, this is a revised repost of a story I've always liked but didn’t get much attention around here, maybe 'cause it ain't an erotic story. Anyway, since most of my work is that kind of stuff, I rewrote this one so none of the characters are underage. If you’re older, you probably caught the 'The Lost Boys' vibe in this story, and yeah, that was totally my inspo. That was one of my fave flicks growing up, and being the weirdo I am, I always hoped the vampire boss would win and the kids would join his fam so they could all be happy draining blood on the California coast. My story ended up being way less bloody, of course, but still, it’s kinda how I wished the movie would’ve wrapped up. Judge me if you want!"

#male tf #mind change #reality change

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meryldian · 2 years ago

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★ Growing up with Tokio Hotel (Devilish) ★

AN: It is no secret that I adore the childhood friends trope with all of my soul. This is very self indulgent and I have zero shame about it.

!! Some if not most hcs are based off events from Bill Kaulitz’s book “Career Suicide” !!

Part 2

Warning! Underage drinking and Smoking, small mention of bullying, some sexual themes briefly addressed. Friendly reminder it’s Tokio Hotel we’re talking about

How did you end up in Magdeburg or Loitsche is up to you, but there is no denial in saying that you were at the right place, at the right time when you met a little boy with spiky black and red hair at your new school playground

Little Bill Kaulitz thought you were cool from the second he saw you. There weren’t many people in the school that he had an interest on or that even payed any positive attention to him. With you it was different. You looked kind and unique!

Quickly he introduced you to his brother Tom, him being a kid with a bit of an inflated ego it would take him some more time to warm up to you.

In the meantime, you and Bill became inseparable. You were basically glued to each other’s hip. His mom would drop him off at your place every Saturday for you guys to play with your Polly Pockets, Power Rangers, dressing up in some ridiculous outfits that were the highest of fashion for your little selves.

Bill’s mom genuinely loved how her son was not scared to be himself around you. She would often ask how you were doing and when you would come over next.

You started to grow on Tom thanks to his mom’s faith in you. If his beloved mom trusted you then so could he.

Tom was getting into skating at the time, he would offer you to learn with him or watch him do tricks.

He loved the attention.

He probably tried to charm you up but gave it up when he saw of how much worth you were. You guys did not bring it up again, only in interviews later on when you wanted to dirt on Tom.

Unfortunately you wouldn’t always be shielded from the chaos in their childhood. One way or another you would probably end up trashing a train or smoking blunts behind the school bushes very early on.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to show up to class totally high.

On the evening you guys would grab your bikes, or you would ride with one of them, and head down by a lake to smoke, chat and unwind. Throwing rocks in and seing how many times it bounced.

With time the twins found their one true love, music. They dreamed big, long gone were the school talent shows and weddings. They wanted to reach the world.

For that, their little singer, guitarist duo with a keyboard that played bass and drums wouldn’t work.

One morning right before class the boys came up to you, literally sprinting and blabbering at the same time. You only understood “band, you, join, casting”

From that moment on you were doomed.

If you didn’t play an instrument already the twins’s step-dad would happily accept you into his music school for free.

Through his acquaintances you guys found a drummer. He was immature for his age according to Tom. He wore glasses and a little shirt with a cow skiing.

When the day of the “casting” as the twins called it came, Gustav played some Phill Collins and solos for you guys. Clearly it wasn’t a real casting and you were fully aware that this boy was your best bet at getting a drummer for your newly formed band. Yet, the boys took it very seriously.

Tom replied “alright good you have the job” and rolled with it.

What were the odds that at the same music school Gustav attended there was an aspiring bassist.

Again, it was your best bet so you took Georg in.

If your first language was english it could’ve gone two ways when the twins came up with the name “devilish”. You either loved it and thought it was sick or you cringed yet had to tag along with it for the boys.

Now you guys had the time of your lives with the band.

Weekdays after school would be spent entirely at the garage jamming out and drinking. You all sucked at the beginning, barely mastering your instruments but your charm stood out.

Georg and you became friends right away. His energy jumped right at you and you both became such a comedic duo.

He started the fire and you just added fuel to it.

You loved to prank your friends so much.

And innuendos. So many innuendos.

Once Tom joins into your madness, it’s over for everyone else.

It wasn’t rare for you three to come back home all messed up and pass out on Tom’s couch.

Gustav baking and making little snackies for the band while you rehearse !!

Well, you drank and lazied around more than rehearsing per say.

Tom, Georg, Gustav and you playing video games all coddled up on a couch together.

Thank god Bill is there to kick your asses so you actually play music.

Tom and You developed a habit of playing back to back. You thought it looked cool.

Gustav is the glue that keeps you all together, and away from major trouble. Half he time at least.

Quickly enough you gained a little fanbase in town.

At school you might’ve been the outcasts still, but the older and “cooler” kids took you in happily.

Not much changed, it was the same old story of drinking, smoking, trashing shit down but now with the slight change that everyone around you was discovering their sexuality.

You walk in and Georg’s wanking in the corner? Throw a blanket over him and continue with whatever you were doing.

Being around four young boys and their friends surely set you up to become just as shameless as them.

You guys got very familiar with one another and could not care less about changing in the same room or sleeping in the same bed.

You guys were starting to become a set of quintuplets.

You were probably one of the first if not the first person that Bill ever talked to about questionning his orientation and the little romance he had with his old friend.

If you happen to be a part of the community as well, Bill was your confidant as well. It was you guys’s little secret before coming out of the closet.

Needless to say, when Bill got the confirmation that he would be attending “Starsearch” he jumped right into your arms. You were one of his biggest supporters and he wanted you to be there for him.

Bill might’ve not won the competition, but it opened a door for your little band.

#bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #georg listing x reader #gustav schafer x reader

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novankenn · 1 year ago

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Can do... with "I DO"

Unlike what many think... Jaune Arc's father, Nathaniel, was not a huntsman. No he was an average, but shrewd business man, who loved his wife Jasmine, and all his children more than anything. So he often took them all with him when he was required to make business trips...

Jaune (Age 4 - Argus)

Jaune: MOMMY!

Jasmine: Jaune! There you are I've been...

Jasmine notices that Jaune is holding the hand of an adorable young red-haired girl about his age. Her cheeks were bright red, and her emerald eyes just radiated adoration for Jaune.

Jasmine: Who is this. sweetie?

Jaune: This is my wife.

Jasmine: I see. What is your name dear?

Pyrrha: My name is Pyrrha... Pyrrha Arc.

Jasmine's heart wanted to burst from the over load of pure adorableness...

Jasmine: So how did Pyrrha, become your wife, Jaune?

Jaune: I asked her if she wanted to hold hands while we played on the swings, and she said "I do"... and I said "I do" when she asked me. It's just like what you and dad said that when you held hands last year.

Jasmine: Yes, yes we did. Pyrrha, honey where's your mom and dad?

Pyrrha: I don't have a daddy... but mommy is by the fountain.

Jasmine: Well Jaune take my hand, and Pyrrha you take my other hand. Let's go meet your mother.

Jaune / Pyrrha : Yes Mommy / Yes Mommy

Jaune (Age 5 - Atlas)

Jasmine was not enjoying her time at the Schnee Mansion. She was tired, and trying to wrangle all her children while her husband finished negotiating an import/export contract was taxing. Yet when she saw Jaune approaching her in his little suit, holding the hand of a darling white haired girl, her heart skipped a beat.

Jasmine: Jaune, who is your little friend?

Jaune: This is Weiss.

Weiss: Mama Arc. I am Weiss Arc, Jaune's wife.

Jasmine's heart skipped another beat.

Jasmine: Jaune. Weiss, how did you become husband and wife?

Weiss: Jaune saw I wasn't happy and asked me to if I like to dance. I said "I do".

Jaune: Then I held her hand and said "I do" like to dance as well. Then we had a dance.

Weiss: It was very exciting, and it made me very happy.

Jasmine: I see. Jaune you take my hand. Weiss honey take my other hand. Let's go find you mother, shall we?

Jaune / Weiss: Yes Mommy / Yes Mama

Jaune (Age 6 - Menagerie)

Jasmine's heart was skipping beats as she watched her only son Jaune walking up to her, holding the hand of a young faunus girl his age. She bit her lip, just hoping he wouldn't say what she knew he was going to say.

Jasmine: Jaune, who is this little angel?

Jaune: This is Blake, my wife.

Jasmine: Is that true... Blake?

Blake: Yes. I am Blake Arc now.

Jasmine: And can I ask... how you became husband and wife?

Blake: I found him wandering on beach, and asked if he wanted to play. He said yes, so we played for a bit, and then he asked if I liked Ice-cream.

Jaune: We were holding hands and she said "I do", and then she asked me and I said "I do"... then she kissed me and gave me cooties!

Blake: You can't get cooties from your wife.

Jasmine rolled her eyes, and prayed to the brother gods that she would be strong enough.

Jasmine: She is right Jaune.

Jaune: Okay.

Jasmine: Blake, where's your mom and dad?

Blake: They work in the big building, near the center of town.

Jasmine: Jaune take my hand. Blake take my other hand, we're going to go see your mom.

Jaune (Age 17 Beacon)

Jaune was feeling slightly better, after emptying what little was left in his stomach into the trash. Sighing, he took a minute and a deep breath. He was here. He was at Beacon. This was his chance to become a hero. To make his parents proud.

????: Jaune is that you?

Jaune: Huh?

????: Jaune? I didn't know you would be here, too!

Jaune: What?

????: Jaune! I missed you!

Jaune: I'm confused. Do I know...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: I'M YOUR WIFE!

Jaune: Uhhh...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: NO YOU'RE NOT! I'M HIS WIFE!

Jaune: Wait... mom told me something about this...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Pyrrha Arc! / Weiss Arc! / Blake Arc!

????: Ah here you all are.

Jaune: Aunt Glynda? I forgot you worked here!

Glynda: Yes I work, here. Now if you will all come with me, I will escort your accommodations, and I Jaune I suggest you call your mother.

Jaune: Yes, Auntie.

Glynda: And to your three...

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Yes Auntie?

Glynda: You will all be on your best behavior, am I understood? There will be no "grand-babies" until AFTER you graduate.

Pyrrha / Weiss / Blake: Yes, Auntie.

#rwby #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #weiss schnee #blake belladonna

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joeys-babe · 1 year ago

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Joey B Imagines: Merry Christmas, Goofball

————————————————————————-

Summary: Joe gets an extra gift at his family Christmas!

(Tiny part two to - Part 1)

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

————————————————————————-

December 27, 2023

(Joe’s pov)

The past two days had been boring, empty, quiet, and all the negative adjectives.

I made the drive down to Athens today for Christmas with my family.

We were having it two days after Christmas to accommodate my brother’s having to go to their in-laws.

It was just going to be the same as last year, watching the kids play, and adult couples sit at the table while drinking wine together.

I fit in with neither group. So I either sat on the couch to watch a football game, or I'd sneak off to my old bedroom and play video games.

Whatever the plan ended up being, I was going to try to get away from this scene.

After all the grandkids opened presents from my mom and dad, it was my time to drift away from the group.

I grabbed a trash bag and gathered all of the wrapping paper and empty gift bags.

When the trash bag was full, I snuck into the kitchen and laid It by the backdoor to be taken out.

Once I did a quick look around and knew no one was watching, I opened the basement door, but before I could reach a foot out for the first step, I felt a huge hand on my shoulder.

Immediately, my shoulders dropped. I'd been caught.

“Not this year.” - Jimmy

I turned around to see my dad and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…” - Joe

“Don't apologize, son. I know it’s awkward since y/n can’t be with you.” - Jimmy

“Yeah, it really is. I don't fit in with the kids obviously, but I don't want to be the only adult in there without a partner with them.” - Joe

“Your mom and I are sorry for making you feel left out, so we got you an extra gift.” - Jimmy

“Huh?” - Joe

“It's on the front porch.” - Jimmy

I gently pushed past my dad and walked through the sea of people, making a beeline for the front door.

Out of nowhere, everyone fell silent, like they were anticipating my reaction.

After giving everybody a confused glare, I opened the door.

My heart stopped when my eyes fell on my extra gift.

“Baby?!” - Joe lept forward and grabbed you

I held her as tight as possible and spun her around, still trying to understand how and why this was happening.

“Hi, Joey.” - you giggled

Her legs were wrapped around my waist as I held her up in my arms.

“What are you doing here?” - Joe

I sat her back down on the ground, my arms never leaving her waist.

“You think I'm not gonna visit my boyfriend when he's in Athens? You were like thirty minutes away instead of two hours, couldn't pass on seeing your smiling face.” - you

“Shit, I didn't even think of that. I was so busy moping around that I forgot I was actually in Athens, where you are.” - Joe

She playfully rolled her eyes before pressing a long kiss to my lips.

Suddenly, there was a voice coming from behind us.

“I see you found your gift. Hi y/n!” - Robin

I smiled at my mom before y/n hugged her, they pulled away, and y/n said something to her.

“Thank you for inviting me, Robin.” - you

“Oh of course sweetie! He’s been walking around depressed like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh all day. I knew you were the only thing capable of making him smile.” - Robin

y/n laughed and I felt myself blushing, not just from embarrassment but also from that gorgeous laugh.

“He loves you so much.” - Robin whispered

I know my mom attempted to whisper, so only y/n could hear… but she failed miserably, and I heard anyway.

“I love him too… so much.” - you told Robin

“Good.” - Robin smile

A few seconds of silence went by before my mom spoke up again.

“Well, I won't bother you guys… feel free to sneak off to the basement like you do every year, Joe. Enjoy your time together!” - Robin smiled before walking away

When she walked away, y/n and I embraced once again before I took her hand and led her toward the basement.

“Am I gonna see the iconic Star Wars room, Joey?” - you

“How do you know about that?” - Joe grinned

“I watch your interviews.” - you shrug

“Stalker.” - Joe scoffed jokingly

“At least I didn't ask a nineteen-year-old out when I was twenty-six.” - you mumbled

I stopped so abruptly that she crashed into my back.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Think I shouldn't have?” - Joe

“What? No! I was just joking.” - your eyes went wide

“Don’t joke about that shit! It's not funny.” - Joe

Grimacing when I realized I raised my voice, I watched y/n’s body language change completely.

“Sorry…” - you looked down

“Wait… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I didn't mean to, baby…” - Joe

“It’s okay. I won't joke about it again. I was playing around and didn't think you'd take it seriously, but I should've known.” - you

“Can we just drop it? I don't want to argue right now.” - Joe looked at you with sincere eyes

“I’d love that. Can we just chill downstairs and cuddle?” - you

“I thought you'd never ask.” - Joe grinned

——

After an hour of cuddling and watching a movie, y/n and I went back upstairs to find my family getting the gingerbread house kits out.

“Oh, hell no.” - you mumbled

“We can go back downstairs.” - Joe laughed

“Can we please? I have beef with gingerbread houses.” - you

I laughed realizing she copied my line about dry ingredients from a few days ago, and took her hand to go back down to my room.

“Uncle Joe!” - Joe’s nephew

Turning around to see my little nephew, I wondered what he wanted.

“Yup?” - Joe

“Look.” - Joe’s nephew

The five-year-old pointed to the doorframe above me and y/n, where a mistletoe hung.

I looked at y/n with a big smile, and we both shrugged at the same time before leaning in to kiss each other.

Because I wasn't a fan of PDA, we haven't ever kissed in front of someone. Other than y/n’s family watching through the windows when I dropped her off.

But right now, as everyone whistled and watched us kiss under the mistletoe, I'd never felt so happy.

We pulled away from each other after a solid minute, with huge grins on our faces from ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - Joe

“Merry Christmas, goofball.” - you laughed

————————————————————————-

Authors note: I felt like the fic needed a second part…. CHRISTMAS FICS ARE OFFICIALLY DONE.

This came from my own head! 🫶

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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spidybaby · 2 years ago

Text

Begin Again | Part Three

Summary: Back to the start to fix the broken pieces just to find that you can get what you always dreamed.

Warnings: cursing

A/N: Hello! I want to apologize for the waiting. Most of that was because I got sick (I still am), but here it is. Hope you like it. Love you all 💛✨️

Part one | Part two

April 2027

The moving went smoothly, Elena and Paulo helped you with everything. Your parents didn't like the idea, but you shut them down.

You weren't supposed to start till the end of April, giving you enough time to mind a plan to fix everything.

You saw online that Pedro was on Manchester. Apparently, Manchester City wanted to buy him.

"No sobre pienses tanto lo que haces, estas haciendo lo mejor para ti." (Don't overthink your decision. You're doing what's best for you)

Elena was the voice of reason in this situation.

"No sé ni donde empezar." (I don't even know where to start)

"Escuchame, eres una de las personas más inteligentes que conozco, venga tía, tu puedes con esto, es normal no saber ni donde empezar, pero estoy aquí para ti, para ayudarte en todo." (Listen to me, you're one of the smartest people I've ever known, c'mon dude, you can do it, it's okay not knowing where to start, but I'm here for you to help you with everything)

You hug her, crying a little, she makes you feel less alone.

Your mother stopped talking to you once she found out about the moving, telling you how much of a mistake you were making.

Your dad was siding with her, even when he didn't say you were making a mistake, he did tell you it was a bad decision.

But you didn't care, you pack your stuff and moved back to Barcelona. You even unblock his family from social media and didn't follow them, but unblock them was a start.

"Vamos por un helado." Elena says, drying your tears, "polito, amor mio, vamos!" (Let's go get some ice cream, Polito, my love, let's go)

She was carrying the diaper bag and your son, to say he even had a matching outfit with her.

"Oye, vamos a la playa, quiero una foto con mi bebé. Polito, te pondré tu chamarra de osito." (Let's go to the beach, I want a photo with my baby, Polito, let me put you your bear sweater)

"Tu bebé?" You laugh helping her with the sweater. "Amorcito, tienes nueva mami." (Your baby? Baby, you have a new mommy)

She laughed and made her way to the front door, grabbing your purse on the way out and your phone. You followed her.

"Crees que Pedro haría algo para quedarse con Polo?" You ask once you got to the beach. Your mom words did have an impact, even if you knew he wouldn't. "Yo sé que no, pero me da miedo." (Do you think Pedro would do anything to take Polo away? I know he wouldn't, but I'm scared)

"Y/n, claro que no, por favor saca esas ideas de tu mente, Pedro y tu tuvieron algo tan especial, él jamás haría nada para lastimarte." (Y/n, of course not, please take that idea out of your mind. Pedro and you had something so special, I know he won't do anything to hurt you)

You only nodded, not wanting to overthink those words.

"Mis padres me odian." (My parents hate me)

"No creo, solo están preocupados." (I don't think so, they're just worried)

But worried about what?

"Venga, Dame a mi hijo, vamos a tomarnos fotos." Elena says, throwing the empty ice cream cup in the trash can near you. (Give me my son, let's take some pictures)

"Lo bueno es que tu lo pariste, vieja tonta." (The good thing us that you birth him, dumbass)

Elena dances a little with him, singing a Quevedo song. The song makes you remember Pedro, he loves Quevedo music.

You take the pictures of Polo and Elena and she then takes some of you and him.

"Ay déjame subir esta." (Oh let me post this one)

You see the picture, it was cute.

"Dale."

"La verdad la oferta esta muy buena, para mi que la tomes." Mario, who is Pedro's manager says, "O es que aún piensas en quedarte en el barça?" (I think the offer is really good, I think you should take it. Or are you still thinking about staying?)

Pedro was lost in his thoughts, Manchester was offering him 150 million euros, with full on benefits and even to keep the number 8.

But on the other side, Barça was the club of his life. He couldn't imagine playing for other club.

He played for another season, but due to a mistake in his contract, he could leave for free this summer.

"Creo que debo pensarlo, hablarlo bien con mis padres." (I have to think about it, talk with my parents)

His manager agreed and changed the subject. He was invited to a club, but he rejected it. Fer was not I the mood, and without him, he was not going.

"Vamos de regreso al hotel." (Let's go back to the hotel)

After the arrival, he and his manager went to their rooms. He was sharing one with Fernando.

"Cómo te fue chaval?" (How was it?)

"Mmm. Estuvo bien, es un puto dolor de cabeza pensar en esto, no sé ni que hacer." (It was good, but it's a fucking headache thinking about all of this, I don't even know what to do)

"Venga, vamos al bar del hotel, tomamos algo y hablamos, no te estreses Pedro" (Let's go to the bar of the hotel, let's have some drinks and a talk. Don't stress)

They both made their way to the bar, Fernando was telling him about a gift he bought for his girlfriend.

"Mira que linda foto," Fer says, showing him the picture Elena posts about a baby with a bear sweater. "Quiero un sobrino para vestirlo así." (Look at this beautiful picture, I want a nephew to dress him like that)

Fernando looks at him with funny eyes, Pedro only laughs, "eres un gilipollas, tu deberías darme un sobrino" (you're an asshole, you're supposed to give me a nephew.)

They laughed and forgot about the picture. Asking for drinks and some food to begin the night.

"Alguna vez has pensado en cómo serias cómo padre?" (Have you ever thought about you as a father?) Fernando asks.

That puts him in deep thoughts. He did think about it, even dream with it.

The little baby in your arms with the barça shirt, his number on the back of both yours and the baby's shirt.

"La verdad?" (You want the truth?)

"Macho, no como crees? Dime mentiras." Fer says as he hits him on the back of the head. "Pues claro tonto, por algo pregunté." (Man, not at all, tell me lies. Well, obviously, I want the truth, I asked for a reason.)

"Venga ya que la colleja no era necesaria." He laughs. "Siempre lo imaginé, usualmente era algo que hablamos y/n y yo, ella quería un niño, y hombre no te miento, yo también quería uno, pero luego miraba a nuestro primo con su hija y pensaba en una niña." He says, remembering all the late night talks you two had. (The hit on the head was not necessary, I've always pictured it. It was something y/n and I always talked about. She wants a boy and man, I do want a son too, but after seeing our cousins with his girl, I thought about having a girl)

Fernando looks at the way he talks about it, the shine of his eyes, he haven't seen that shine in months.

"Puedo preguntarte algo, pero no te enojas?" (Can I ask you something without you getting mad?)

"Mhm?"

"Por qué la dejaste ir?" (Why did you let her go?)

Pedro takes his eyes away from his brother. That question was one he asked himself every night since that December night.

"Recuerdas el anillo?" He asks, Fernando nods. "Yo sabía que ella quería que su padre estuviera de acuerdo con el matrimonio, la bendición, así que fui a pedirla, yo quería casarme con ella." (Remember the ring? I knew she wanted his father to be okay with the marriage, the blessing. So I went to ask for it, I wanted yo marry her)

"Pero?" (But?)

"Pero su padre me dijo que no podía darmela, que yo era un chaval con una vida muy distinta a la que el soñaba para el esposo de su hija. Me dijo que pensaba que ella algún día iba a darse cuenta y dejarme, como no lo hizo, solo esperó. Me pidió dejarla, diciendo que ella no quería irse de Barcelona por mi, porque no quería dejarme, diciéndome que sus sueños iban a ser siempre interrumpidos por mi, por mi carrera y me pidió dejarla ir, dejarla emprender su propio camino, brillar por si sola." He says angrily, remembering the words of your father. (But her father couldn't give it to me, I was a kid with a totally different life from the one he pictured his son in law would have. He told me he hoped for her to realize that and left me, but she never did, so he waited. He asked me to leave her, but she didn't want to leave Barcelona because of me, telling me her dreams were going to be interrupted by me because of my career. So he asked me to let her go, for her to shine on her own, to begin her own path in life)

Fernando was in shock. He always thought it was about a fight, maybe even a bad patch on the relationship. Even his parents told him he was making a mistake, but know it makes sense.

"Pedro. Por qué no me habías contado?" (Pedro, why didn't you tell me?)

He shrugs, not facing him. Drinking way too quickly.

"Pedro, por favor mirame."

He did, after a few minutes.

"Lo siento, por haberte criticado, haberte culpado y juzgado mal. No sabía lo que había pasado, ojalá me hubieras contado, para así apoyarte. Lo siento hermanito." He hugs him, the hug was tight, and Pedro needed that. (I'm sorry. For judging you and for blaming you. I didn't know, and I wish you had told me I would have supported you. I'm sorry, hermanito.

Pedro felt relief. The secret he kept to himself was now free from him.

"Has pensado en hablar con ella?" (Have you thought about reaching her?)

He shake his head no.

"La verdad siento que me odia, la hice mierda, la deje y luego ignore sus llamadas, sus mensajes. Me dolió el alma, Fernando. Pero era lo que yo en ese momento creía correcto. (To be honest, I feel that she hates me, I fuck her up, after I dumped her I ignored her calls and texts, that broke my heart, Fernando. But I thought I was doing the right thing)

"Escuchame, tu hiciste lo que en ese momento creíste correcto, no te culpes más, pero creo que es obvio que no la has superado, aún piensas en ella." Fer says, patting his back. "Venga, déjame ayudarte a recuperarla y si no se puede pues ayudarte a superarlo, juntos en todo, como cuando niños." (Listen to me, you did what you thought was the right thing, don't blame yourself anymore. I think it is pretty obvious that you love her. You still think of her. So, let me help you get her back, and if that's not possible, let me help you move on, but together, like when we were kids)

"Te amo, eres el mejor." (I love you, you're the best)

"Yo te amo más, venga que tenemos que pensar en algo." (I love you more, c'mon, we have to plan how you're getting her back)

Pedro smiled, high five his brother, and begins with the plan for that to happen. Like fer said, together.

You were at the supermarket, you needed food for your fridge. Elena stayed with Polo. He was fussy, so you let him stay.

You got almost everything on the list. I'm picking a few fruits. Since Polo is now six months old, the doctor told you to start with some fruit based foods.

You grabbed some sweet potato, some bananas, and some avocados. Also some vegetables like broccoli, carrot, and some more.

You were so focused on picking some apples that when someone touched you to grab your attention you kind of jump.

"Ay Dios," you say, putting your hand on your heart, "Pablo?" You ask seeing him smile, trying not to laugh.

"Sigues siendo la misma tía que se asusta de todo al parecer." (You're still the same scary girl I see).

You laugh, hugging him. It's been a long time without seeing him.

"Cuando volviste?" (When did you came back?)

"Hace poco, a finales de marzo." (Not that long ago, end of March.)

"Y estas aquí para quedarte? O solo de visita?" (Are you staying or only for a visit?)

You smile, "Vine para quedarme" (I'm here to stay)

You talked for a while, and you both continued the shopping.

"Y dime, como vas de amores?" (And tell me, how's the love?)

You shrug, not knowing how to answer.

"Pues, sigo soltera. Los Italianos son muy intensos, te juro. Y tu que tal de amores?" (Well, I'm still single, Italian guys are way too much. What about you?)

"Recuerdas a Carolina?" (Do you remember Carolina?)

"La nena del agua?" (The water girl?)

He nodded, excited. "Hace casi un año estamos saliendo, ya no es la del agua, ahora es entrenadora de los niños en el club" (almost a year ago we been dating, and she's not the water girl anymore, she's a coach for the first starters in the club.)

"Eso está increíble, Pablito." (That's amazing, Pablito)

"Haz vuelto a hablar con Pedro?" (Have you talked to Pedro?)

If Pablo was known for something, it was two things, his anger on the pitch and not having a filter when he speaks.

"No, hace mucho que no hablo con él." (No, it's been a long time without talking to him.)

He nodded, understanding.

"Pero, de hecho he querido hablar con él desde que regresé. No sé si quiera hablarme." (But, I've been looking to talk to him since I came back, but I don't know if he would talk to me)

"Pero vamos, claro que quiere" (c'mon, he obviously wants to)

You smile at his words.

"Deja darte el número, tuvo que cambiarlo porque en un entreno le hicimos mierda el movil" (let me give you his number, he had to change it since once during training we fucked his phone)

"No me sorprende, siempre se hacian mierda las cosas ustedes" (I'm not surprised, you guys always fucked your things)

He grabbed your phone, saving Pedro's number.

"Te he guardando el mio igual, por si alguna vez necesitas algo, acá estoy." (I saved mine too. If you ever need anything, I'm here)

You hugged goodbye as you both went different ways.

You hurry to the line, wanting to get home so you can tell Elena the news.

"Sabes que me encanta de Manchester, el ambiente es diferente a España, no sé cómo describirlo pero es diferente" Fernando says, looking around. (You know what I love about Manchester? The atmosphere is different. I don't know how to explain it, but it's different)

Pedro laughed, agreeing with him. Mario only nodded smiling.

"Bien, entonces dame unos días y te daré la respuesta, si?" (Okay, give me a few days, and I'll have the answer) Pedro says referring to the contract.

"Tomate una semana, meditalo y si tienes dudas podemos hablar, poner un pro y con sobre la mesa." (Take a week, meditate it, and if you have any doubts, call me up, and we can put all the pros and cons at the table to make up your mind)

After that, they changed the topic, talking about a game they were invited to, Fer and Mario were talking about one specific player and how he got a yellow card for something that was a clearly a red.

Pedro's mind was far away from that, seeing the text he got from Pablo.

She was back, and she wanted to talk with him.

He was out of breath, wanted to tell Fernando right away, but he knew better and wait for the night to be over.

As they entered the room, he grabbed his brother's shoulders, shaking him while screaming in happiness.

"Me vas a descalabrar capullo." (You're going to hurt me, idiot)

"Mira," he shows the text message.

Fernando is now screaming with him, happy for the news.

"A ver, calma ya" (okay, let's calm down), Fernando says, taking a few breaths. "Si te quiere ver y Pablo le dio tu número, ella te va a escribir, es obvio." (If she wants to see you and Pablo gave her your number, she'll text you, it's obvious)

And as Fer finished saying that, Pedro's phone lights up with a text from an unknown number.

Pedro checks it and screams, showing it to his brother, who screams with him.

(Hi,

I hope you're doing great. I'm sending you this message to let you know I'm in Barcelona and I'll like to meet up with you to talk.

-Y/n)

"Qué contesto?" Pedro says, full of nerves. (What can I text back?)

"Trae pa ca', tonto," he says, taking the phone from his brothers hand. (Give me that, morron)

(Hi

I like to see you, we can meet wherever, maybe somewhere more calm to avoid paparazzi)

Back in Barcelona, you and Elena are sitting in your couch, face to face.

"Ya contestó," you say excited. (He answered)

"A ver," Elena says, taking the phone from you. "Contesta" (let me see, answer him).

"No sé que poner," you say nervios. (I don't know how to answer)

"Ay, dame aquí, tonta" (give me that, idiot)

("Do you still living I'm the same place." "Yes, do you remember the address, or do you need the location?")

"Crees que recuerde?" Pedro asks, seeing the answer his brother sends. (Do you think she remembers?)

"Callate, déjame ver que responde," Fer says, seeing the three dots. (Shut up, let me answer)

("No, I do remember, what about tomorrow morning?" "I'll be back from Manchester tomorrow at noon. Let's meet at night, if that's okay with you.")

"Cierto que vi que estaba en Manchester," you say as you read the text, "Dile que si" (it's true, he's in Manchester, say yes)

"Calmate," Elena says. (Calm down)

("I'll see you tomorrow at night" "7 pm?" "Yes, " "I'll see you tomorrow. " "Goodbye, Pedro.")

Pedro and Fernando were looking at the last text.

"Niño" Fernando says, screaming and hugging his brother.

Pedro is excited. He was getting you back. No matter how hard, how much he has to fight or work, he's getting you back. He's putting that ring on your finger. He's getting that dream family.

What he didn't know is that on Barcelona, Elena, and you are jumping and screaming on the couch.

"Dios, estoy tan nerviosa." You say as you calm down. "Necesito que me lleves, por favor." (Gosh, I'm so excited. Please, I need you to take me)

"Obvio, tonta." (Obviously, dummy)

You both look and start screaming again, until a cry make you stop.

"Oops," Elena says.

You laugh and go to collect your baby. He was crying due to your screaming, mad because his dreams were interrupted.

"Ya, ya mi amor, ven acá." You say picking him up, calming him. "No sabes, tu papi y yo nos vamos a ver." You say as he calms down. "Y estoy nerviosa, espero mañana puedas conocerlo." (It's okay, love, come here. You have no idea. Daddy and I are meeting up, I'm nervous, and I hope you both can meet up tomorrow)

You kiss him. Taking him with you back to the living room.

"Vente." You say to Elena, "ayúdame a escoger el outfit." (Come, help me pick my outfit)

You feel like a teenager getting ready for her first date.

The butterflies, the nervousness in your system, and the excitement.

Tomorrow, you're getting that family you both dreamed about.

Tag list:

@alwaysclassyeagle @footballerficsposts @gulphulp @cinderellawithashoe @jajajhaahaha @bellinghambby22 @pablogavisgirl @lunamelona @christinabae @fadinglovermuffintaco 💛✨️

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formulaforza · 2 years ago

Text

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—01. all american girl —word count: 6.4k —warnings: none :) —a/n: this is queued so I'm sound asleep right now but trust when I wake... I will be throwing up about having posted this

It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and the kindergarteners at Robinson Elementary are getting picked up from the gymnasium and taken to their classroom to start their day. It’s nine in the morning on Friday, and their teacher, Chris Elliott, is running four minutes late to the first day of the U.S Grand Prix. Her fingers flatten down stray flyaways, working in tandem with the extra strength hairspray she found in the back of the Walgreens beauty aisle last night. Her makeup is strewn about in chaos atop the stark white marble countertops, a single folded piece of toilet paper in the trash can, remnants of her lipstick kissed onto the fibers.

She played it safe on the outfit today, still hasn’t been able to pinpoint exactly what the dress code for this race is supposed to be. Her Dad has been no help–he can get away with wearing jeans and a short-sleeve button-up just about anywhere he goes. More is expected from her, though. Three days, three outfits, always walking the line between casual streetwear and Kentucky Derby without a fascinator. She settled for something painfully classic and American, figured a European sport would be eating up the concept of everything being bigger in Texas. Levi’s, a white tank top, and a beat up pair of cowboy boots should do a good enough job at letting anyone curious know she’s authentically American, without screaming out for attention. That’s the goal for the weekend; blend in and keep Dad company.

Dad, who is not-so patiently tapping his foot against the floor, watching pre-race coverage of the Dixie Vodka 400 on his iPhone 7, is a guest of honor for Ferrari this weekend. It was a classic Bill Elliott commitment, one he makes and then forgets about until he’s getting sent an email a month ago to remind him. One he makes when he forgets his son is racing the same weekend. That’s how Chris ended up here with him, instead of her Mom or instead of Chase or Chandler. They’re all in Florida for the Cup Series. Well–Chandler isn’t. Chandler’s at her hot-shot job in the big city living her life blissfully away from racing.

She can count on a single hand the amount of times her dad has missed a Cup Series race in the years since his retirement. Even if he’s moved on from driving the track, racing is in Elliott blood. It comes easier to them than breathing does. Chris won’t be the first to admit it, but she's the NASCAR nepotism equivalent of a Baldwin baby. She’s no Kennedy, the first-families of NASCAR are closer to the Petty’s and the Earnhardt’s, but, you ask a NASCAR fan about the Elliott Clan and you’re sure to get an earful. Champion, Hall-of-Fame inductee father, supergenius transmission and engine mechanic uncles, and a superstar fan-favorite older brother, the Elliott family racing history spans generations of fans.

Never the Danica Patrick-type, Chris has always preferred to watch the races rather than compete in them, but she still grew up at the track and was always up for a trip to visit her dad at the auto-shop.

“Mums,” her dad says, peeking his head around the corner into the hotel bathroom. It’s a stupid nickname, Mums, Chrysanthemum. She’d roll her eyes if it was anyone but Bill still calling her by it. “We gotta go, darlin’.” Chris nods at him in the mirror, flattens her hands along her thigh and tucks one final strand of her bang behind her ear, and then they’re finally leaving the hotel for the track.

It’s a strange kind of first for Chris, in that it’s not really a first at all. She’s been to COTA before, multiple times. Hell, she watched in the garage when Chase won the inaugural Cup Series race here in May last season. She’s even been to the U.S Grand Prix before, back when it was still in Indianapolis, when Chris was too young to remember if it was big or if she was just little. She’s used to the crowds, spends almost every weekend with upwards of fifty-thousand people, but this? This is the kind of crowd she can’t fathom being among, and it’s only Friday. If it takes them an hour and a half to get through traffic on a practice day, she can only imagine what the next two mornings have in store for her.

“No antics today,” Bill tells her in the car. “They’re not like us. Trust me, I know.”

Last time you went to one of these races, you were still a driver, she wants to tell him, but doesn’t. He doesn’t take well to the implication he’s an old man. Walking into the paddock with a yellow pass hung around her neck, FERRARI-GUEST-17 and a picture of the team logo popping up on the screens at the turnstiles, she’s beyond taken back by the pomp and circumstance of it all. She’s barely through the entrance and she’s already spotted half a dozen people who could buy her without it making a dent in their pockets. It’s nothing like walking around a NASCAR track. There isn’t a single Bud Light knight or backs sunburnt into American flags or t-shirts turned muscle tanks. It’s just… rich people. Lots and lots of rich people.

In the Paddock Club tent, Bill manages to find a couple of his old buddies. Guys he raced with back in the day who’ve turned up for whatever with whoever this weekend. It’s unsurprising, stock car racing is nowhere near as exclusive a club as Formula One. They aren’t any of the guys Chris remembers being a part of her childhood, none of them pseudo-uncles in the way some other drivers were. You’re all grown up, they tell her, note her height and her features and one of them even asks if she’s in college yet. She plays along, pretends she remembers them fondly and that they haven’t been on the recipient list for the annual Elliott family Christmas newsletter for the past thirty or so years. His buddies are much more comfortable talking about Chase, anyways, about his racing and his fiancee and his little boy than they’ve ever been talking about Chris or Chandler. The concept of a quote-en-quote girl dad wasn’t such a thing in the nineties.

Chris makes small talk with one of the wives. They can’t be that far apart in age, she’s definitely of a different generation than her husband. Gross. Chris lets the woman lead the conversation; she talks about the polka dots on her skirt and Chris’ cowboy boots that are, apparently, perfectly authentic.

They separate from the group of former NASCAR drivers and their child brides within the hour. Bill has to be in Ferrari hospitality by one o’clock for a special meeting. He’s still not sure what he did to get selected for this specific group of people who get to do a hot lap with one of the Ferrari drivers, but he isn’t about to ask any questions that might get him out of it. He sets off to hospitality and Chris sneaks out of the paddock and into the rest of the track.

There’s only so much to see inside the paddock. Hospitality after hospitality after hospitality, just in different colors with different modern structures with pictures of different cars. She wants to experience the event, not just the rich people who can pay their way into the upper echelon of the pinnacle of motorsport. If she’s going to be on her own for an hour and a half, she might as well be fully and truly on her own.

She ends up in the beer garden. More specifically, the bar tent. You can’t separate a NASCAR fan from the Natty Light. The pass around her neck gets her into the VIP area of the tent, which… feels like an antithesis of itself. Her phone buzzes in her back pocket when she’s waiting on her bottle from the bartender. It’s her dad.

Brad Pitt is here. Crazy.

She makes quick acquaintances with a couple who looks about her age. She compliments the girl’s denim jacket and then she’s in. The DJ is playing country music with a techno backtrack at the other side of the tent and they all three spend a good fifteen minutes trying to decide if they love or hate the set. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever heard,” the guy says.

“It’s definitely not the best, though,” Chris winces, spots a Ferrari pass hanging with the VIP one around the girlfriend’s neck. “Are you guys here with Ferrari?” She asks.

“Oh, “ she says, looks down at the pass and fiddles with it for a moment. “Yeah, Will’s a golfer and they invited him for a tour and to do this golf event with ESPN.”

“Oh, that’s sick!” Chris nods. “Have you guys ever been here, or is this your first time?”

“We’ve come every year for…” Will starts, looks to his girlfriend for the rest of his sentence.

“Four years,” she nods. “What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Chris explains, leaves out the technicalities because she barely cares about them, doesn’t expect a stranger to even half-care. “My dad’s here with Ferrari, and I’m here to babysit my dad.” She laughs.

The woman nods, makes a quiet ah sound. Will asks for clarification. “You guys lose each other, or something?”

Chris nods. “Or something.”

Charles sees her before he hears her. She appears in his peripheral on the top floor of Ferrari Hospitality, moving swiftly through the groups of strangers with a confidence that makes you think she owns the place. He half-prepares to excuse himself from his current conversation–not that he’s understanding more than forty-percent of the words coming out of this guy’s mouth–to take a photo with the short brunette bee-lining it over to him.

“Excu–”

“I think I saw Brad Pitt on my way here,” she says, and the man he’s been talking to for fifteen minutes laughs. Oh, he thinks, that’s mortifying. She’s not here to intrude on his conversation and ask for a picture. She’s here with this guy.

“This is my Chris,” Bill says.

“Hi,” Chris says. Chris. Chris. Chris is a woman. A woman extending her hand, thin and well manicured with a single ruby ring, for him to shake. “Chris.”

“Charles,” he says, hesitates. “You are not what I was expecting.”

There wasn’t much he understood from Bill Elliott during their hot lap, not that Bill didn’t talk. Charles just didn’t have the focusing capabilities to drive the car in an entertaining way while also deciphering the thick southern drawl of the man sat in the passenger seat. It was thick, heavy, and sounded like maybe he’d smoked a pack a day for a few years. That, or he was straight-up making up words in a bit that only he was in on. One thing he did understand, though, was the kids’ names. I have three, he’d said, Chandler, Chase, and Chris. He’d assumed all boys. Chandler, Chase, and Christopher. Christian. Cristiano. The last thing he was expecting was a beautiful girl with a firm handshake.

“You were expecting me?” She asks, and her voice is a million times easier to understand than her father’s.

“No, no. He just,” He gestures absently to Bill. Chris doesn’t break eye contact. She has wonderful eyes. “I thought Chandler, Chase, and Chris are three brothers.”

“Oh,” She laughs like it’s not even close to the first time she’s had to follow behind her dad and correct the miscommunication, and a piece of her bangs falls loose from its tucked position behind her ear. She fixes it without thought. “Well, you’re one for three.”

She asks Bill about the hot lap, asks if he had fun and he laughs. They’re very laugh-oriented people, he’s noticed. Laughy and almost intimidatingly good at holding eye contact. He’d always heard Americans had an issue with eye contact, and if that really is the case, these two practice their active-listening skills enough for the rest of the country. Their kindness is in their expressions, soft eyes and small smiles that keep you from feeling like an intrusion on the conversation. He notes all of his findings internally, categorizes them together as if he’s spent the last ten minutes looking at anyone but her.

She’s horrendously his type. It’s painfully apparent with every passing moment. The hair and the face and the build and the smile. Just, God.

“Why didn’t you do one?” He asks, “A lap?”

“The need-for-speed bug skipped the women in my family, unfortunately.” She tucks her hair again. He wonders if she’s growing it out or if she always keeps it at such a length that it’s just too short to stay where she wants it to.

“We could go slow,” he offers and she chuckles, closing her eyes long enough to roll them without him actually seeing them roll.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.” He’s never been good at flirting, always found it off-putting in the beginning, trying to walk the line between what one person finds fun and another person finds horribly uncomfortable. Once the dust settles, he can manage, but making those first few moves? He might as well be a deer in headlights. Semi-truck headlights.

“I don’t know,” she says, drags out the vowel sounds and he’s oblivious to whether or not she can tell he’s only making this offer as a chance to spend more time with her. He’ll get an earful for it, no doubt, but if she agrees it’ll be worth it. Bill chimes in, eggs her on with a guilt trip. You should do it, don’t be a party-pooper. Charles wonders if Bill can tell he’s flirting with his daughter. Probably not, he’d bet. “Okay,” she says, and his stomach does a celebratory flip. Before he can say anything more, Mia is pulling him off somewhere. He hadn’t even seen her coming, but he fills her in on the walk.

“Domani c'è un'aggiunta al programma dei giri veloci.” There’s an addition to the hot laps schedule tomorrow, he says. Mia glares at him and he pretends not to notice, flashes her a toothy-grin as an unapologetic apology.

When she’d agreed to do a hot lap with the gorgeous racing driver standing a foot away from her, she assumed it would be forgotten the moment he stepped away from the conversation. She never would have agreed to it if she actually thought it was going to happen. Chris was sorely mistaken though, when later that afternoon, a man dressed head-to-toe in Ferrari red finds her to gather her information. 1:10, he tells her through a thick Italian accent, be in hospitality at 1:10.

It was wonderful, really. Perfect, fantastic, great, legendary. This is an amazing opportunity. She isn’t going to regret agreeing to this, no chance. Even for the queen of optimism, this one is hard to put a positive spin on.

There is no underestimating just how much Chris hates going fast. She’s never liked it, spent the majority of her childhood getting carsick in a vehicle maxing out at forty miles an hour. Her sister and brother used to think she was faking it just so she could always ride shotgun. She’s not even allowed to drive the car if she’s with her dad or her brother because they can’t bear it. To her, a speed limit is just that, a limit. To everyone else, it’s a minimum.

Her only hope is that she doesn’t vomit all over an expensive supercar at 1:10 tomorrow afternoon, or worse–the cute guy driving the car.

In the meantime, she can distract herself with the Green Day performance and remind herself that only so much can happen in five minutes. Anyone can survive five minutes.

– – –

They eat the continental breakfast at the hotel the next morning. Bill has pancakes and Chris has cereal because, as she’ll tell anyone, there’s just something about cereal from a plastic container. She’s also three coffees ahead of where she was this time the day before, all of her nerves personifying themselves as desperation for caffeine. She’s responding to a work email on her phone while Bill has a call with Chase.

Somewhere on a race track in Florida, Chase is calling between practice and qualifying sessions. They talk every day during a race weekend–Bill and Chase–and it’s almost never about racing. Her dad might drop an occasional that’s not what I would’ve done or a well, that looked like fun, but that’s usually the end of race-talk. They used to fight like cats and dogs about driving when Chase was younger, so much so that Chris’ mom banned them from talking about racing inside the house for three straight years. The who of them are better now, now that Bill’s been able to let Chase find his own way and go through his own racing journey.

“Your sister is doing a Hot Lap today,” Bill says, and Chris can hear Chase’s laughter from the muffled speaker.

Bill and Chris are driven to the track on Saturday because traffic is so bad. It’s hot and windy and Chris has her window rolled down the entire drive, her fingers dancing through the dry air. She’s always loved the heat, the sun shining down on her skin, kissing her in a million different places all at the same time. She loves the heat, and the heat loves her.

The morning flies by. They start the day with a tour of the Ferrari garage, where they’re introduced, or re-introduced, to their drivers. They end up with a couple other very important people hunched over Charles’ car while he explains how much pressure needs to be applied to the brake pedal for the car to actually brake. Bill eats the semantics up, cars and their mechanics run thick in his blood, braided deeply into his DNA. Chris, however, has always enjoyed the more delicate things in life; the pink hair bows and the dollar store makeup kits and spinning herself dizzy in a flowy summer dress. She never spent exorbitant amounts of time at Dad’s engine shop or Grandpa’s Ford Dealership, it just wasn’t in her lane of interests. She sips another coffee–her fifth of the day–and listens attentively to Charles talk, bites her smile at his wild gesticulations. He’d make a good kindergarten teacher, she thinks, with his huge personality.

When the whole tour group is being shuffled out of the garage to be replaced by a new set of prying eyes, Charles makes a passing comment. See you later for the world’s slowest hot lap, he remarked, put his hand on her shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze as he moved past her.

She doesn’t know why, but she’d convinced herself that it wouldn’t actually be him she would be doing the lap with. It was qualifying day, after all. Surely, he had about a million and one better things to be doing than driving a random girl around a track a few times. She figured it would be a driver, but not one of the drivers.

After lunch, she makes her way back to Ferrari hospitality, to where she was told to be waiting at 1:10. She’s the only person who looks like they’re here on instruction. Nobody else is nervously picking at their cuticles or vibrating in place as a reaction to their seven coffees that morning.

She spent the night before grilling her dad about his experience, forcing him to give her a moment-by-moment breakdown of everything he remembered happening, from the safety briefing to the conversation afterwards. But, when it came time for Chris to actually do hers, there was no safety briefing warning her about the million different ways she could die. Instead, the same man who’d tracked her down the day before escorted her from the top floor of hospitality to the bottom, out the back into what she can best compare to an alleyway, and then to a red supercharged Ferrari.

Charles is there, talking to what appears to be a personal photographer and another man dressed in Ferrari garb. She re-introduces herself for a third time in twenty four hours. “I know your name, Chris,” Charles says, smiles and shakes her hand anyway. She doesn’t like the way her brain reacts to him saying her name like it belongs on his lips.

“Duh,” she laughs, “sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Right,” she nods. “Yeah, sorry.” Charles laughs out a sigh, cocks his head and smiles. Chris bites her tongue not to apologize again. It’s a reflex. She puffs out her laugh and shrugs.

If she manages to make it out of these couple laps with her life and the contents of her stomach still intact, she’s sure to still look like a clown–a fact she realizes as she pulls the tight helmet over her head. She’s worn racing helmets a handful of times, but it’s not muscle memory to her in the way it is to him. It takes her a minute to tighten the chin strap just right and despite his genuine offer to help her, Chris turns him down and blindly works her fingers under her neck until it’s just right.

“Why don’t you get a fun Hot Laps helmet?” She asks while she fights with the strap.

Charles knocks on the side of his helmet with his knuckle. “Custom fit. Safety reasons.”

Chris knows, she was just messing with him. She nods like she never could’ve guessed that was the reason. “My safety doesn’t matter?” She comments, pulls the strap tight for the final time.

“You think I’m going to crash?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

“I would never crash with Chris Elliott in the car.” There he goes again, saying her name all annoyingly French and nice and easy.

“Whatever,” she says, turns away so he can’t see her squished cheeks flush pink against the polyester. He opens the passenger side door for her, knocks his knuckle on her helmet this time, and horribly mocks both her words and accent before shutting the door behind her.

Chris has her seatbelt buckled before he can get around the front of the car and into his seat. Her leg bounces anxiously against the floor mat. Charles starts the car and moves to shift into drive, but stops short. “Are you scared?” he asks, and in a moment of vulnerable honesty, she nods. She’s more than scared. She’s terrified, and despite his brief attempt to reassure her that it’s going to be fun, her leg is still bouncing when they peel off from the group already awaiting his return.

A hot lap, she’d come to learn in the last day or so, would be more accurately referred to as hot laps–plural, multiple, several. Three, to be exact. One out lap, one push lap, and one cool down lap. Three laps. Hot laps. They should really start referring to it as a plural.

The best thing she can compare it to is a roller coaster. The turns share the feeling you get at the tipping point, right before your body thinks you’re free falling. Her stomach is left behind three turns back and it never really catches up to the car once they start. The straights are like that first hill, fast and crazy in a way that pulls from her lips screams she hears before she consciously chooses to release. It’s like a roller coaster, if the person sitting next to you is completely unaffected by the ride and spends the entire time trying to carry out a conversation with you between your screams and their giggles. It’s like a roller coaster, if the cart never leaves the ground.

On the cool down lap, when they’re going at a speed that allows Chris to pick up her soul when they drive through turn four, he asks her if she’s single. It comes at her from left field.

“Are you flirting with me?”

He laughs, takes a hand off the wheel and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes!”

“Oh,” she says softly. If he notices the surprise in her tone, he doesn’t mention it. “I am.”

“Can I get your number?” She swears that his fingers are shakier than before as they hover over the paddle shift. They were sure-footed just minutes earlier, she’s sure of it. She’s sure of it, but there’s no way it’s a genuine observation. There’s no way she’s making him nervous.

She laughs, because what on God’s green Earth is a European Formula One driver going to do with a small town American girl’s phone number?

“I’m not abandoning my dad for a hookup,” she says, and he rolls his eyes, repeats the question. “Why do you want it?”

“Because, Chris Elliott,” she wants to scrape the way he says her name out of his voice box and pin it in a scrapbook. It’s like a tick, the way it burrows into her skin. Nobody should be allowed to make her name sound like that. “You are a very beautiful girl, and when a guy sees a beautiful girl, they act like an idiot and ask for her number.”

“Oh, my God,” she giggles, shakes her head and looks out the window like it might ground her, or like it might reveal that she really is in some fever dream state and none of this is real. She’s not even in Texas, maybe. That’s how insane this whole conversation is to her.

“Too cheesy?” He asks, grimaces. She shakes her head, holds her hand out for his phone.

“Just cheesy enough.”

When they get back to where they started, someone asks Chris if she’d had a good time. She nods, flattens down the static-electricity charged flyaways on her head and tells them yes, even if she’ll be just a little bit nauseous for the rest of the day. It’s not a lie, either, she did have fun. She was scared out of her mind, but in a way that makes her happy she did it.

They pose for a photo together in front of the car, the picture snapped by the only guy with a camera around his neck, the only one besides Chris not covered head to toe in Ferrari branding. When they pose, Charles’ arm wraps around her lower back and, almost like he remembers himself in the middle of the action, his hand doesn’t close around her side. Instead, it hovers just beyond her body, open and stiff and flat. How gentlemanly. “Good luck tomorrow,” she says.

He nods his thanks, “I hope I see you around this weekend,” he adds, and then they go their separate ways. Good thing, too, because she’s still blushing over it when she gets back to her dad in the Champion’s club. Bill is too distracted by the live feed on Chase’s qualifying laps on his tiny phone screen to notice Chris’ presence, much less the coloring of her cheeks. He qualifies third and they celebrate quietly with drinks from the bar and FP3 on the big screens.

They stumble into more NASCAR old-timers while in the Champion’s Club and Chris spends the time fifth-wheeling their conversations about Chase and watching the second half of qualifying on one of the TVs.

She doesn’t really understand the format of the weekend. In theory, she understands the basics, didn’t have to read Formula One for Dummies on the plane ride over, but the intricacies of it are beyond her. In NASCAR, drivers are split into two groups and then are only given, at max, two laps to set their qualifying times. It varies depending on the track that weekend, but it always hits some of the same points. From what she can gather from the low-volume televisions mounted on every surface around her, F1 is definitely different.

They head back to the hotel directly after qualifying to ‘beat the traffic’ which is code for Chris is still nauseous and they’re both feeling a little too heat exhausted. They stop for dinner on the way back, at a barbeque place right by their hotel. Bill orders the chopped brisket with potato salad and Chris gets the pulled pork sandwich with a tomato zucchini salad.

Chris has been really busy with work, with settling into the new routine with her new group of students, and Bill wants to hear all about it. She always struggles in September and October, feels inadequate every time the other teachers find their footing with their new class weeks before she does. It’s the first time alotta ‘em have been in a school, Bill reminds her and she shrugs it off, tries to find something more upbeat to talk about.

Chris and Bill have really gotten close over the past couple years. Growing up, she and her sister Chandler were massive daddy’s girls, had him wrapped around their little fingers from the moment they came into the world. But, when Chase started to really take racing seriously, the girls lost a lot of their dad to their brother and spent the majority, if not all, of their time with their Mom. As a teenager, Chris did what all sixteen year old girls do and rebelled against any and every rule in the book. While Chandler was touring colleges and getting 1550s on her SAT and singing in the church choir, Chris had other plans. Whether it was stubbornly refusing to clean her half of the shared room with her big sister, ratting Chase out for coming home at 2am drunk, or sneaking out of the second-story window to go out with her all-too-old boyfriend, she tested all of the waters. It wasn’t until college, until she moved away to Athens and was out of the house for the first time in her life that she realized just how important family was to her. She’s been attempting to make up for lost time since.

That night when she plugs her phone into the charger and shuts it off for the night, she realizes she’d been half expecting a late night text from Charles. It didn’t come, and disappointed isn’t the right word for the tiny little pit in her stomach because she wasn’t really expecting anything to come from typing her number into his contacts. It’s not disappointment, it’s something closer to acceptance or rejection, maybe. It’s not like he would’ve been searching out anything but a hookup, anyways, and Chris made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t into that idea.

She would never hear from him again, and that’s how it should be. The whole interaction turning into anything but a story she can tell in a couple months when she’s drunk would be entirely too complicated of an outcome.

She doesn’t let herself think about it any longer, leaves her phone face down on the side table and tucks herself into bed.

– – –

Traffic on race day is true-crime inducing. They’re driven, again, escorted and still spend an hour and a half in the backseat of an SUV. Bill and Chris watch from the VIP stands and Chris has never seen anything like this, especially not at COTA. Even Talladega and Daytona barely hold a candle to this spectacle.

If she has one critique, it’s that F1 should really hire some B-List at best celebrity to scream drivers, start your engines! At the start of the race like they do in NASCAR. It would really add some flare, she thinks.

She and Bill share Chris’ airpods, one in each of their ears listening to the NASCAR broadcast. Charles starts twelfth, for whatever reason. She can’t be bothered to look into it, knows it’ll probably be a penalty she doesn’t understand and she’ll be tumbling down a rabbit hole before she knows what’s happened to her.

While it’s not Chase’s best race–he finishes fourteenth with a single sigh from Bill–Charles puts on a show, fights his tires all the way up into third.

They watch the podium celebrations on the TV screens and nobody looks happy to be up there. They look miserable, almost, and she understands it to an extent. It’s hard to have energy after a race, she’s witnessed it first hand more times than she can count. It’s hard, especially at the end of the season. Burn-out is real, but still. They look bored. She didn’t know spraying champagne could look so tired.

Bill grumpily flies them home to Georgia late Sunday night. He’d wanted to wait until Monday morning, after all the billionaires and their super-jets take off right after the race, but Chris refused to miss another day of work this early in the school year, not when she was already going to be missing time in December for her brother’s wedding.

Bill’s been flying planes since before any of his kids were born. His most recent purchase is a Cessna Conquest II that he uses to fly the family around for short distances. In another gene that skipped the females in the family, Chandler, Chris, and their mom all prefer to be passengers. Chase, however, followed in Dad’s footsteps once more in becoming an avid aviation fan.

By the time they take off, any thought Chris had of getting a text from Charles has faded far into obscurity. He’d probably gotten dozens of numbers from girls this weekend. He was probably at a club somewhere right now still pulling women. Women more his type, probably. He seems like he’d be more into the refined type, the girls without the ‘cheap’ accents who were all worldly and spoke seventeen languages fluently and had long legs that carried them down runways across Europe every other weekend.

Little southern girls get texts from little southern boys, that’s how it goes. That's how it’s always gone, and Chris is beyond naive to think anything different for even a moment.

She grades papers on the flight home. Purple pen, because she thinks that color is fun and red is too cruel to grade with. Puffy stickers for everyone, even the kids who aren’t anywhere near the right track because she doesn’t want anyone to feel less than just because they struggle a bit more. Chris has always been a firm believer that the student is never the problem. If someone isn’t learning what she’s teaching, she needs to adjust the way she teaches it to cater to their learning style.

It’s her job to teach them, not their job to learn.

Joris has been laughing at Charles from the hotel room armchair for fifteen minutes now, beyond entertained by his best friend’s restless pacing, providing absolutely zero aid to his current predicament. This act has been going on for some time now. Charles, pacing for five minutes before pulling out his phone and typing up an opening message to Chris. Each time, he starts to read it out to Joris and then stops himself short, deletes it, and paces for five more minutes.

Hey, Chris. This is Ch–no, that’s stupid.

Sorry it took me a minute to text–absolutely not.

What’s up? It’s Charles, how–someone should just stop him from speaking to women all together.

There’s half a dozen renditions before Joris breaks. “Mate? What is your problem?” He finally asks. “It’s just a girl.”

“I know,” Charles sighs, “I know.”

“Then why can’t you send her a text?”

“Because.” He doesn’t really know why he can’t land on a message, why everything he types sounds entirely too casual or formal or nothing at all like what he would say to another human being. This isn’t a problem that he’s used to having. It’s the in-person flirting that fucks him up, not the texts and DMs and comments. She was just… he doesn’t know what she was. She was just. End of sentence.

It’s no help that he doesn’t know American texting culture, unfamiliar with how long he’s supposed to wait to send a message or what he’s supposed to say in the opening text.

“Here,” Joris says, holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ve got the perfect text.”

“Don’t send it,” Charles warns, but passes the phone to his friend.

“I… won’t,” Joris says slowly, struggling to multi-task. He doesn’t type for more than a few seconds and then hands the phone back to Charles, with the message already sent. Charles’ look of sheer panic is met with a smile and a chef’s kiss from Joris.

She turns her phone off while Bill is shutting the plane engine down in the hangar. Because of his love of aviation, Bill had bought some land out in the woods a couple decades ago and turned it into the family’s private airstrip for their planes. Elliott Field, they coined it, stored all their extra vehicles out on the property. She slips it into her back pocket as her and Bill disembark and lock up the place, and the entire time she can feel it vibrating, the notifications from the hour and a half flight catching up now that she’s on the ground again.

It’s not until she’s in her car that she checks them, pulls her phone out to plug it into the aux and play some music for the drive back to her house. Right at the top of the dozens of notifications is a message from an unknown number with an unfamiliar area code.

[one unread message] the notification reads. She unlocks her phone to check the message.

She closes the messages app on her phone and opens up Spotify, shuffles her favorite playlist. She doesn’t reply to his text, doesn’t know if she wants to or even what she might say back. She’s sleepy, more than ready for bed after a long weekend in the sun, excited to be back with her students bright and early tomorrow morning.

The text from the cute race car driver can wait for another day. An issue for tomorrow, maybe.

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no-damsel · 10 months ago

Text

Just friends

Warnings: Swearing, minor violence

Chapter three

“Son of a bitch!”

“Stop,” you hiss, smacking Adam’s hand away from your face. “Trust me, I’m fine.”

You had gotten in between two drunken assholes when they started fighting in front of you while you were collecting dirty glasses from tables. You ended up getting punched twice in the face since both men swung at the same time; however, the fight immediately stopped when they realized they’d hit the wrong person.

Two bouncers threw them out, and that was the end of it until Adam got involved. He got riled up, thinking he was going to have both of them thrown in jail.

“Is there a problem here?” Jasper walks into the staff room and says, “I heard there was some kind of altercation.”

“I got caught up in a bar fight; I’m fine.”

Since you were facing Adam, the owner couldn’t see how swollen your eye had become or the blood gushing from your eyebrow.

Adam steps up towards the owner, but before he can say anything, you lightly shove him in the chest, gaining his attention again. “Tommy, I’m fine. Take a walk or go back to work.”

He lowers his head slightly. “I’m sorry, boss, I just hate seeing a woman getting beat on, you know? It sets me off.”

Jasper pats him on the shoulder and says, “I get it.”

At this point, you turn to toss the tissue in your hand into the trash and go to get another one. “I think Angel should go home,” Adam says. “Have you seen her face? It’s a mess.”

“Angel, let me see.”

You turn and look Jasper in the face, and his jaw clenches. You were under no false illusion that he cared for you personally; rather, he cared about how you looked. He makes a tsk sound. “This just won’t do. Princess,” Jasper clicks his fingers at a blonde dancer when she enters the room. “Go and find Gregg for me; tell him I need a word with him. Tommy, go back to work.”

“I’m not excusing him shouting his mouth off.” You top off the whisky in Jasper's glass with your free hand while the other holds ice over your eye. “But one of the dancers told me his dad used to beat on his mom and sister as kids; he was just being protective. Which is more than I can say for the pathetic excuse of bouncers who let a fight like that break out.”

You felt guilty saying that Bob Ruzek was a good man, but you needed a cover story to excuse ‘Tommy’s’ behavior.

“No sweat, baby,” he motions for you to sit beside him. “Have you thought about my offer? More money, fewer late nights.”

“Why did you pick me?”

Jasper chuckles. “You’re the only one in here I trust to have my back.”

Adam and Antonio had been undercover for almost three weeks, and they were so close to making an arrest; they had found the stash house. They now just need to catch him handing the drugs over to his dealers. But now, his newest revelation was something you needed to discuss with Voight as soon as possible.

“Gregg,” Jasper says, standing up.

“The blonde girl said you wanted to see me.”

You hold back a snort. Antonio would go out of his way to call the dancers by their show names; whenever he heard someone being called Princess, Heaven, or Angel, he’d screw his face up.

Jasper pulls multiple twenty-dollar bills out of his pocket and hands them to Antonio. “Take our angel to the emergency room. Make sure they take good care of her.”

“The bleeding has stopped,” Antonio says, tossing the bloodied cotton ball into the trash. “I don’t think it will scar; just leave a nasty cut for a couple of weeks.”

“Thank you.”

Instead of taking you to the emergency room, Antonio took you back to his apartment to clean up your wound. If you went to the hospital, you’d need to use your real name, which could blow the whole operation if Jasper caught wind.

Antonio disappears from his bathroom and reappears moments later, holding a bag of ice in one hand and a hand towel in the other. He says nothing as he places ice on the material, then holds it up to your swollen eye, causing you to flinch.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Your fingers brush against his when you take the ice from him. You felt slightly uncomfortable; Antonio always seems wary of you. As if he’s expecting you to somehow betray him.

He leans back against the wall with his arms crossed. “Do you think Jasper bought the cover story you said about Tommy?”

“I think so. Although Adam looked pretty pissed,”

Antonio motions for you to follow him into the living room. “Can I ask you something? Sorry, gotta take this.”

He walks into a bedroom you presume is his own to answer his mobile and starts talking in Spanish. Every so often, his voice would become louder, so you would assume he was mad at something. You were grateful he cleaned you up but didn’t want to impose, and you would probably leave once his call was finished.

Sitting on the couch, you glance around his apartment and notice the framed pictures on the table. One stands out more than the other; on one side of the frame is a happy-looking young girl surrounded by balloons and banners with the number eighteen on them, and the next one is Antonio standing between the same girl and a young boy with his arms wrapped around them. All three of them were smiling brightly.

Hearing the sound of a door closing, you look up and see Antonio coming out of the bedroom. Before you can say anything, he shoves his phone into his pocket and says, “Sister.”

“Are these your kids?”

He nods.

“They are beautiful.”

He picks up another picture frame and sits down beside you. The kids look younger in this picture, and there is a brunette woman hugging them. “That’s my sister Gabriela, my daughter Eva, and my son Diego.” Smiling, he places the picture back down. “Do you have kids?”

“None biologically, but I’ve been raising my nephew Eli since he was two; he’s just turned seven. The only downside to being undercover is being away from him.”

“Yeah, I get you. When Laura filed for divorce, she took the kids with her, and it killed me. Eva did come and live with me for a while, but she’s now at college, and Diego only stays with me the first two weeks of the month.”

It took you by surprise that he was sharing any personal information with you since you didn’t really know each other.

“Where’s Eli now?”

“In our home with my dad. My dad’s a retired detective; he moved back to Chicago to help me with Eli.” You trace your finger over the thin red bracelet, a friendship bracelet your nephew made. “Is Gabriela your only sister?”

“Just the one sister,” he says. Antonio relaxes his arm over the back of the arm chair. “Gabby is younger than me and is incredibly strong-willed. She is a paramedic firefighter.”

You smile seeing how his face lights up when he talks about her. “Does she work in Chicago too?”

“She did. She moved to Puerto Rico a couple of years ago. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I’m the youngest of three girls. My oldest sister, Cherry, lives in London.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a sonographer. She moved to England to live with her husband and her stepson.”

“So I’m guessing she’s not Eli’s mom?”

“No, he’s my sister Amber’s son.”

He laughs, “You’re kidding me? Cherry, Amber, and Viola?”

“Yeah, yeah. My mom named us after her favorite colors.”

Antonio senses your change in emotion and, in a lighter tone, says, “So, does Amber live in the city?”

“Amber moved to New York when she was pregnant. She died five years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely. “Eli is lucky to have you; not everyone is willing to raise a kid; that’s not there.”

Before you can respond, your work mobile vibrates in your pocket. You answer the call and put the phone on loudspeaker. “Hey, I’m guessing you got my voicemail?”

“Yeah, I did. You okay? Adam said you got caught in a fight, and Dawson left with you.”

“I’m fine.”

When Hank doesn’t seem to believe you, Antonio speaks up: “Hank, we are sitting in my apartment; the bleeding has stopped.”

“Okay, good. So what was so urgent?”

You lick at your dry lips, mentally reading yourself to share the information you learned right before the fight.

#antonio dawson x you #antonio dawson x reader #Antonio Dawson #antonio dawson fanfiction #Antonio Dawson/reader #Antonio Dawson/you #Antonio Dawson x fem reader #chicago pd #Antonio Dawson fanfic #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic

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garmanarnarr · 7 months ago

Text

Rickorty Week Day 6: "Say You'll Marry Me"

college-aged Morty | 2.8k words | Rated M, language, vomit, suicidal ideation, rock bottom Rick Sanchez

@rickortyweek

Morty throws the trunk of his dad’s station wagon shut with a thump.

“You sure you don’t need to bring my Ninja smoothie blender, Morty?” Dad asks, for a second time, standing on the driveway beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. The August morning is hot and clear. Gene’s sprinklers are going hard on the lawn next door.

“I think it’ll make you really popular with your roommate. You said they’re from California, right? They must be healthy. There’s a little more space behind the driver’s side–”

“N-nah, I’m good, Dad,” Morty says. He goes around to the passenger door to do a last check of his overflowing laundry hamper and make sure his video game console box made it in. He doesn’t want to forget Bonestorm III. All told, he doesn’t really have that much to bring, though, and the car’s only half full. He wears pretty much the same clothes all the time, and doesn’t have a ton of books or movies or anything. His booby bikini girl poster is rolled up in the footwell of the backseat and one or two of his robot figurines he just couldn’t part with are packed into cardboard boxes. All the advice listacles his parents found online for Summer’s freshmen year of college said that bringing something from home was important, so the idea has been passed down.

He reaches into his pocket and palms the little evil intent detector that Rick had made for him a few years back. A tiny credit-card sized piece of metal that reads people’s brainwaves and vibrates if they’re planning on hurting him or torturing him or whatever. They’d used it on an adventure, a rare heist –Morty can see Rick’s eye roll– but he hadn’t had the heart to throw it away. He’d gone back and forth for ages on whether or not to even bring it. He still doesn’t have to, he tells himself; he has hundreds of miles of highway driving ahead of him where he can just chuck it out the window and let it get crushed on the side of the road. He tightens his grip.

His mom comes out of the garage, checking her watch. “We gotta get this show going,” she says. The garage feels weirdly empty until Morty realizes it’s because Rick’s ship isn’t in it. Hasn’t been there for a while. He pulls his hand out of his pocket and starts loading the last few bags.

“If we don’t leave soon we won’t make it to our motel until, like, eleven, and lord knows what we’re going to find in Fresno after sundown,” Mom says.

Dad follows Morty as he transfers a final trash bag of gym shorts and shit into the back seat.

“What– what about my George Foreman Lean Griddle? Or, my Slap Chop? You never know when you’ll need onions in little cubes, those always make me cry….”

Dad sniffs, then wipes away a tear, even though he’s trying to look like he isn’t. Oh, God. He had volunteered to drive Morty first, of course, before being overruled.

Morty turns back and gives him a small smile. “I’m really fine, Dad. But thanks.”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry, just give me a moment, son.”

Something in Morty’s pocket buzzes. His hand flies to Rick’s detector, for a second, until he realizes it was the other one. He pulls out his phone and opens it to check his messages while Dad tries to get it together. Two are from Summer, who’s been spending her senior year of college in London with the textile arts department of her school doing fashion stuff.

dont let dad cry all over u little bro

cuz hes gonna

The newer message is from his girlfriend, Anne.

status report mortimer

Morty finds himself looking for some kind of message from Rick– which is stupid. Rick doesn’t text.

He texts Anne:

finally leaving lol

She responds immediately:

call me when you guys stop for the night?

Morty’s heart clenches fondly. They’re going to different schools to study different things in different parts of the country— newly separate time zones– and it’s going to be hard, but he likes her a lot. Enough to give it a shot. He winces as he remembers Rick’s deadpan dismissal when Morty had mentioned that he and Anne were going to do long distance over dinner a month or two ago. D–didn’t take you for that much of an idiot, Morty. As soon as she gets there she’s gonna be getting allll sorts of co-ed dicks in her mouth. But I guess you don’t mind sloppy digital seconds?

Ofc i will, he types.

Nobody’s heard from Rick in two or three weeks. Morty had kind of expected– well, he didn’t know what he’d expected, but he’d really thought that Rick would do him better than this. All he does is talk about how stupid Morty is all the time; maybe he’s pissed at being sort of wrong. He’d been straight up shocked when Morty got his acceptance letter in the mail, the packet fat in Morty’s hand as he raced down from his room to show everyone. While Summer screamed, and both his parents had cried, Rick had stared at the letter Morty was holding, hard, then sipped his beer, then turned back to the TV. N-nice one, Morty. A real cool sixty grand a year investment, there.

“Let’s go, Morty,” Mom says, opening the passenger side door. “I need some coffee if we’re gonna do this.”

Finally, Dad wipes his face. After taking a few deep, calming breaths, he walks over and sweeps Morty up in a hug.

“I’m proud of you, Morty.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“We didn’t think you’d make it, but you did. Of course you did. And that’s what matters.”

“Bye, Dad,” Morty said, leaning into the hug. “I–I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Morty doesn’t realize how much he misses the sound of a portal opening up until he hears one right behind them. Dad jerks back with a frightened twitch.

“What the hell–?”

Rick doesn’t so much step out onto the driveway as fall. He looks to be in a really bad way. Maybe as bad as Morty has ever seen him: scraggly and torn up, not even really standing up straight, too drunk for his body to cope with the flat, even keel of the pavement. One arm of his labcoat is missing, ripped off at the shoulder, and Morty’s thankful to see that the arm beneath is intact. Skinny, and maybe there are track lines, there, faint in the bright sunshine, but intact. There’s dried vomit crusted on his sweater.

“M-Morty, oh, God,” Rick moans. Morty feels a sinister shiver run over his shoulders and up the back of his neck as he watches Rick try to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly into the hot light. “Christ. Fuck.”

“Dad?” Mom asks, poking her head out of the driver’s window.

“Rick? Here to say goodbye to Morty?” Jerry asks, cautiously. Morty watches as he scooches himself to stand between his son and Rick, a little bit. A surprisingly brave move.

“Isn’t that w-what we’re all doing?” Rick asks back, taking a step forwards, then falling to one knee with a lurch as he loses his balance. “Saying fuckin’ goodbye— goAAUUGhodbye to Morty? Because he’s going away f-f-forever and never coming back?”

Rick’s drunken stare pins Morty to the side of the car, which had been parked outside so long while they packed that the metal is starting to get hot. The words sound like a taunt, but Morty can hear the truth there, a hard kernel in the middle.

“Hi, Rick,” he says, trying for indifference. In his pocket, he squeezes his hand around the detector.

Rick narrows his eyes. “R-R-Rick and Morty. One thhhhousand fuckin’ years. What, whatever happened to that shit, huh?”

“Dad–” Mom’s getting back out of the car.

“So I’m going to school. Big whoop,” Morty says, annoyed. Everything about this is annoying: Rick disappearing whenever he wanted then showing up just in the nick of time fucking shit faced like he’s trying to bail out the Vindicators. “You’ve been gone for, like, three weeks, Rick. And you didn’t feel the need to tell anybody about that. N-not that I would expect anything else at this stage. So, you know, whatever.”

“Three weeks?” Rick’s struggling to stand back up, now. “Three weeks?”

“You’ve never owed anyone anything in your whole goddamn– your whole stupid life, R-Rick. Not my family, not me. Not even Mom.”

Rick’s expression is foggy and drunk, but underneath, Morty can see he’s hurt.

“I think you should go, Dad,” Mom says in her stop-doing-this-right-now-or-you’re-fucked voice. “I don’t care if you portal out of here, or crash on the sofa to ride out your hangover, or whatever, but just. Let us leave.”

Somehow, Rick manages to get one leg in front of the other so he can advance up the driveway towards Morty with halting, wavering steps like a zombie in a horror movie. The detector in Morty’s pocket buzzes. Dad looks back and forth between them, scared.

“Three weeks, Morty?” he grinds out, again. He’s close enough now for Morty to see how bloodshot his eyes are. “I’ll give– give you three weeks. Y-you know what happens when you go to college Morty? You have four years to get too fuckin’ big for your idiotic little britches.” He grabs one hand around Morty’s bicep, grip crushingly strong. Morty can smell his rancid breath across his face, agitated, huffy. “And then you, you go and think you can do goAUUGHd, good things for the world, or whatever, you get those little aspir– aspirations in your head, Morty, you get these fucking ideas in your head–”

“It’s already been years, Rick,” Morty says, trying not to turn away. “Doing whatever, well at least, pretty much whatever, I-I guess, you wanted me to do.”

“– and you don’t even know how stupid these i–ideas are, until, boom, you’ve lived your whole sad-ass pathetic-ass life doing jack fucking shit. Goin’ and bein’ a techbro office slave narc or some shit. I just can’t, I just can’t ffffucking– oh fuck—”

Rick starts to throw up pretty spectacularly all over the ground, and the side of the car, and on Morty’s sneakers.

“Oh my god, Dad!”

“Oh, Rick that’s just disgusting!!”

Morty just stays quiet until Rick seems finished and he slumps against the car, moaning. He watches as Rick slides down until he’s half knelt, half crouched by the front bumper, the vomit running down the gentle slope of the driveway to touch his shoes and the spread hand on the ground that’s keeping him from falling on his face. He makes a sound when Morty comes closer, a sort of whimper. Morty gets down beside him. Unable to stop himself, he puts a hand on his grandpa’s back and starts rubbing little circles as Rick groans, spitting out a wad of bile. There are a lot of different colors in the vomit, ones Morty can’t recognize even though he’s pretty familiar with Rick’s binge habits by this point.

“Fuck youUUGh. Fffffuck you, Morty. I– I mean that. So much. '' Rick’s staring at the ground. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his hand. Morty wonders if maybe he’s going to be sick again.

“Yeah, fuck you, too, man,” Morty says, but there’s no heart in it. He just feels sad. He wishes– he doesn’t know what he wishes.

“F-forever. Fuck you, forever,” Rick mutters quietly, almost to himself. Little dark spots show up on the driveway beneath his head, and Morty realizes he’s crying. Or maybe it’s post-vomit drool? It’s hard to see his face.

“M-Morty, Morty listen to me,” Rick says. He sounds defeated, almost confused. As old as he really is.

“I’m listening, Rick.”

“I’m gonna do somethin’ stupid. Sooo, so stupid.” Rick’s still staring at the ground.

Dad’s shadow has crept next to Rick’s foot. “Rick, I really don’t think–”

“Whatever you’re about to do, think twice before you traumatize my son,” Mom says. Then she pauses and adds: “More.”

Morty keeps rubbing circles across Rick’s knobby spine. “What, Rick? What– what’re you gonna do?”

“Say you’ll.” Rick chokes a little.

“Say what?”

“Say you’ll marry me, Morty.”

Morty blinks. “What?”

“JeEUGHsus Christ, don’t make me say it again.”

Morty’s body is a live wire. His hand scrunches the back of Rick’s coat tightly. “No. Say it again.”

Rick stares up at him with watery eyes.

“Marry me,” he says, quietly. Pathetically. There’s some drool and left-over throwup clinging to his chin.

There was this one adventure they’d gone on where Morty had mangled his leg so badly that his shin bone had actually broken the surface of his skin. Burst right through below his kneecap, like a jagged, bloody tooth. It was screamingly painful– Rick actually had to knock him out until he was able to fix it with some nanobots. Morty realizes that this is the same as that; that this is some core part of Rick, torn through all the heaped layers of nihilism and drugs and whatever else poisons who his grandpa is. This is the exposed bone.

When Morty looks up at his parents, he can’t read the expressions on their faces.

“I– I’m not a good person, Morty,” Rick says, grabbing weakly at Morty’s t-shirt to get his attention again. Like he can’t bear to let Morty look anywhere else. He sounds like he’s really losing it. “I’m a horrible person, Morty. Say– say that you’ll marry me. God, I’ll blow my fuckin’ brains out if you don’t— let’s just g-g-get out of—oh my God—”

Morty’s pocket vibrates. He doesn’t know if it’s the detector or his phone, and he should care, should be terrified, but he doesn’t.

He isn't.

—

Turns out, Shoney’s is a regional chain.

Morty doesn’t realize this until they reach the last one at the edge of the state, just before they cross the border. ‘Last Shoneys for the next 24,800 miles,’ says the sign at the exit. There’s a graphic of an arrow reaching all the way around the globe, back to the little point on the map they’re driving through. Morty has traveled the multiverse with Rick, to places billions of light years away, so far away time doesn’t mean anything at all, but somehow this is already the longest trip he’s ever taken. Like that one scene in the Lord of the Rings where Sam crosses the corn field. If I take one more step, this’ll be the furthest from home I’ve ever been. That was a really good movie, Morty thinks.

His mom throws the car into park. She’s had to adjust the driver’s seat to be closer to the steering wheel because her legs are shorter than Dad’s, and change all the mirrors, too. She drives way faster than him, swerving lanes to cut around traffic like a maniac. Maybe that runs on her side of the family.

“Food?” she asks, simply. Morty nods. He twists to look over his shoulder.

“Rick?”

Rick stirs in the back seat, thin eyelids fluttering. They’d made space for him by shoving over a bunch of the boxes to one side and moving some to the trunk. There aren’t really that many, anyways. He’s wearing a clean pair of pants and a t-shirt that belongs to Dad, which helps, but he still has an undernote of puke and sweat.

He makes a hungover-sounding groan. He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

“You want Shoney’s?” Morty asks. “L-last chance.”

“Shoney’s, you say?” He cracks an eye open, gaze flickering around to look up at the building they’re parked at. “Didn’t know they had them out here. O-on earth, I mean.”

Mom watches him silently in the rearview mirror. Rick just looks at Morty.

“Y-you know what, fuck it, sure,” he says finally, popping open the car door and getting out. The sun is even hotter, here, and scorching air blows into the car when he slams it closed. Mom and Morty do the same, one, then the other.

Together, they go inside to eat lunch.

#rickortyweek2024 #rickorty #rickmorty #my writing #once again #these just keep getting longer #i am sorry i am failng the idea of a ficlet #tense changed btw

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